The secret of five
by Brainyuck
Summary: The story of the remaining Loric continues. Picking up where the rise of nine ended.
1. Prolog

Prolog

Three men with long black beards walk towards the entrance of the hidden cave. Their long black hair hangs down around wide cowboy hats and their long black coats cover their entire body from their shoulders all the way down to their long black boots. In fact, everything about them is long and black, except for their skin, which is kind of bruise coloured. Nonetheless, you might mistake them for just extraordinary humans on first sight. Actual humans probably do mistake them for extraordinary humans, but I know better than that.

They pass my hiding spot without noticing and I allow myself to breathe again. For a second I thought I was too sloppy. That I may have grown too confident from all those little successes I've been having lately. I have to remind myself I'm not invincible. Not yet, at least.

The three Mogadorians go straight for a rock formation in the side of the mountain and only now do I notice the small hole that probably leads deep inside the mountain. I have been expecting something like this, some sort of hidden entrance, but even with my advanced abilities, I had no clue where it was. Guess you have to know exactly what you're looking for to find it.

As the Mogs enter the cave, they walk by a bunch of dead animals, and without even paying them any attention they just step on the remains. I grimace and turn away. Of course it's no use; it makes no difference if I turn away or not. I can still see them crunch the dead animals under their boots. It's the downside of my abilities, the gift's curse. Still, it's hard to overcome old habits.

When they have disappeared inside the cave, I decide it's time to make my move. Waiting won't make it any better and I'm sure, that by now the Mogadorians will have realized that I'm not in Jamaica anymore.

I silently stand up and rub my wrists. My feet have gone numb from the hours spent sitting behind these rocks. The reason why I came to West Virginia in the first place was to check some rumours about a UFO being spotted near a mountain in this very national park. After some research I figured I had to go and take a closer look.

I hide the big wooden chest under some loose tree roots. Not a great spot, the side with the padlock sticks halfway out. Anyone who looks behind this rock will probably be able to see it, but it'll have to do. I won't be in the cave for long, anyway. I keep wondering why we were not given backpacks instead of those unpractical chests, though.

I put on my Loric glove and test it, just to make sure it still works after all this trouble in South America. When I close my wrist, the glove extends until it covers my whole arm. At the tip it gets sharper until it forms some sort of blade. When I hit the rock I've been hiding behind, it cuts right through it. Yup, still working fine.

One last look at the chest, then I duck and run towards the cave, trying to avoid the carcasses. One more reason to hate the Mogadorians, I think while hopping in between the empty spaces on the ground.

I stop for a split second to make sure no one is following. A noise to my left makes me jump, but it's just the wind in the trees. I bite my lip. So far, so good. I slip through the entrance and I can already feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

Back in the years my Cêpan was still alive, it used to be hope that drove me. Hope, that forced me to carry on, to go through all those hard times. Hope that we would survive. That the Mogs wouldn't find us, that all the surviving Garde would come together and then eventually, one day, take back Lorien and claim what is ours.

I have given up on hope long ago. All I can think of now is revenge.

The three Mogs are still inside the tunnel behind the entrance to the cave, but they have their backs turned towards me when I sneak in. They don't expect anyone to attack them, which is why they feel safe enough to deactivate the force field around the cave. Their guard is down, they have become too sure of themselves; just like the Loric had when almost our entire species got wiped out. On that day, when the Mogadorians invaded Lorien and everything collapsed, they paid for their mistakes. And they paid badly. But the Mogadorians make mistakes, too. And that day, it was a grave one: They let a few of us survive. A mistake I won't make.

The three Mogs turn around in surprise, just when I jump at the first and ram the glove-blade right into his heart. Ash has never tasted better.

* * *

Hey everyone!

This is the Prolog of a fanfic I've been thinking about for a while now, and I'd really like to continue it. First, I want to know if anyone's interested in reading more of this or so. I know there are tons of awesome fanfics about the Lorien Legacies, I hope someone will take the time to read this, though.

So... please, please, please leave your thoughts in the commentsection, it would really, really mean a lot to me.

Please :)


	2. Chapter 1

Having water around me always makes me feel better.

I remember one time, not much after we had landed on Earth, when Adelina – she was called Emmalina back then - and I weren't so desperate to find shelter or food that we actually allowed ourselves some freetime. It was winter and almost freezing outside, but I still insisted on going to the lake we lived near to, and after days of begging Emmalina finally gave in.

I couldn't swim back then, but I still wanted to try it out. Except for a shower, I had never been in water before. In the beginning it was really cold inside the lake, but after a couple of minutes my body got used to it and from then it wasn't so bad at all. I waded around for a while, not paying attention to the time passing, until Emmalina suddenly rushed in the lake and dove for me. She pulled me out by the shoulder and dragged me back to our car. I had fallen asleep inside the water, it had been so comfortable.

Back then I didn't have my legacy to breathe underwater, who knows what would have happened if she hadn't rescued me. As the charm was still up back then, it might have protected me, but I'm not sure about that. I remember something about the charm only protecting you from enemies, not from your own stupidity.

Maybe it would have made an exception for me. My stupidity _is_ my biggest enemy.

So, Emmalina probably saved my life there.

Once more I don't know how to make it up to her. Looking back, I wish I had shown her more how much she meant to me. I'd like to tell her a lot of things, like how happy I am that from all the people on Lorien it was her to be my Cêpan. Or that I have forgiven her for not teaching and training me. Or that I miss her so much, I don't know how I will be able to take another breath, knowing she won't be here with me anymore.

I shift my weight to the left and let out a ring of bubbles. I watch it disappear towards the surface, then close my eyes again.

Would Adelina be proud of what I've done? What the six of us have accomplished? How I have proven myself, how I didn't give up, even when I was sure we would all die inside that US military base. I try to imagine what she would tell me, now that we have safely made it out of New Mexico. She would probably smile or stroke my hair, maybe pet my shoulder like she had done so many times before. She would definitely give me one of those long hugs I miss so much.

I almost feel like she's with me here now. I can almost see her beautiful, caring face hovering in front of mine, winking at me. I can almost hear her voice, calling out my name, that it's time to go.

But she's dead. Dead. Because of me.

I know, Six told me not to blame myself. But the truth is, I am the only one to blame. When the Mogadorians had come for us in Santa Teresa, I should have insisted on leaving. I should have just taken Adelina by the shoulders and shaken her until she remembered who she really was. Or maybe I should have just packed my things and run away, lead them away from her. It was me they were after, after all.

Instead, she sacrificed herself so that I could live. How will I ever even make it up to the memory of her?

It's hard to imagine what life was like, just a couple of weeks ago. I know it sounds stupid, but even though I've been waiting to reunite with the other Garde for practically my whole life, I wish Ella and Crayton had never arrived, the Mogadorians had never found me and I would still wake up every morning, knowing that Adelina would always be there to catch me.

I sob.

Crying is okay underwater. No one notices your tears, until they have completely mixed with the surrounding water. In the end, only a soft salty taste remains.

A distant voice rings through to me, but I decide to ignore it. It can't reach me here, in my own bubble of water. My last stand of privacy.

A knock on the door and again the voice calling my name. "SEVEN! I'm not going to say this again, GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!"

I sigh, then I slowly sit up and rub my face.

"Just a second," I shout back and get out of the bath tub. I quickly dry myself with a towel and put on the new clothes Six bought for me earlier. She said that we would go shopping together next time, and I'm actually really excited towards it. I've never gone shopping before, and Six is such a great person to hang out with. It will be nice to do something together that didn't involve killing aliens.

I open the door and Nine storms past me, jumping from one foot to the other.

"Damn it, Seven what the hell have you been doing in there? I'm waiting for like half an hour, and a man's got to do what he's got to do," he says.

"Sorry," I quickly say before rushing out to let him do what a man's got to do. When I close the door behind me I hear him release a relieved sigh.

"Count yourself lucky this time, Seven," he shouts back, and Ella, who has been watching the whole time from the living room, snickers.

I blush and go to the kitchen. The sweet smell of pancakes is in the air, and when I enter, I find John and Sarah in the middle of a kiss. They notice me and Sarah quickly turns back to the pancakes. John nods in my direction. He seems disappointed, though, so I close the door to give them their privacy. I understand him. I know how much they have both missed each other.

I check the clock. Six and Eight should be back in about half an hour. They're the only ones who have been outside the flat for the past two days. Six has her invisibility and Eight can change his form into looking like someone totally else.

Of course it's reasonable that they go together; in case something happens it's best if they are two. But the fact that he's there with her…

After that kiss we had, I thought Eight and I would be more than just the friends we are now. I hoped we could have something like Sarah and John. Having them around while Eight keeps treating me like that kiss never happened hurts.

I sit down on the couch next to Ella. She's drawing a perfect picture of the living room, illuminating every single detail, things I haven't even noticed before. Her view of the world.

I still wonder where she learned to draw like that. I had always thought myself as a good painter, but compared to Ella, My drawings look like a kindergartner's.

"Mind if I watch TV?" I ask, and she nods, then looks up as if I had just ripped her out of a deep thought and quickly shakes her head.

"No, I don't. I mean, I don't mind. I mean, just go on."

I smile and turn the TV on.

After watching a woman advertise for an Ultimate Vacuum 3000 for a while, I start zapping through the channels until I get to a show where some guy is trying to convince another guy to 'suit up'.

Ella looks up just when I want to switch the channel. "Ooooh, I love that show," she yells, so I leave it on.

It is supposed to be a comedy show, but I don't get half of the jokes and Ella has to explain everything to me. Apparently it's about a man telling his kids how he met their mother. And there seems to be eight seasons of it. I don't get how anyone can watch more than half an hour of this, but Ella seems to like it. We never had TVs in Santa Teresa, so I don't mind watching this, even though it's not really interesting and I'm too tired to pay too much attention.

I haven't even realized I have fallen asleep, but I somehow wake up with my head hanging down the back of the armrest. I rub my eyes and yawn, just as the TV shows a close-up of two kids sitting on a couch, quite like the one I'm sitting on. A voice says "And, kids, all this time, your mother was right in front of me."

Ella leans forward, gaping at the TV. I guess this is some sort of a highlight or something.

"All this time, it was…" The voice slowly says, and just then all the lights– And the TV - go out.

Ella raises her arm in a disappointed gesture. "What, that's it?"

Then there's a knock on the main door.

I am stunned. Ella and I exchange a look and I gulp. I hear the kitchen door open and John rushing down the hall, keeping Sarah right behind him. He reaches into the back of his Jeans and produces a dagger out of it. Nine comes rumbling down the stares to the bedrooms and positions himself next to John with a grunt. Ella and I stand up from the couch and run over to them, then John rips the door open.

Leaning against the doorframe stands Eight. He has a deep cut on his forehead that connects his two eyebrows. A stream of think blood runs down his shirt from a bullet hole in his shoulder, and his left arm looks dislocated.

Our eyes meet and he gives me a crooked smile, then he collapses on the door mat.

* * *

Hey again everybody.

Thanks a LOOOOOOOOOT for the reviews on the prolog, it made my day :)

It also encouraged me to write this. Again, please let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Marina immediately cries out, lunges forward and catches Eight before he hits the ground. She slowly lays him on the terrace in front of our house and carefully presses her hands on his wounds. For a second nothing happens, then he suddenly begins to breathe at double speed. His legs start twitching, and I help Ella to hold them in place. Sweat runs down Eight's face and his eyelids fly open.

Then, the bullet that must have been inside his shoulder all this time suddenly shoots out of the wound and the sore closes.

I watch as his chest rises and falls even faster than before. Once again, I'm amazed at Marina's ability to heal anything in a matter of second. I don't know what Eight would do without her. During the last two days Marina has already saved his life twice. And I only know them for this long.

As Eight's arm pops back into its proper place, I suddenly realize Six is missing. Her and Eight were supposed to get some groceries and a new car together, but now only Eight is back.

Guilt creeps in, together with a presentiment that something really bad is happening to Six right now. I know Eight would never leave her behind if it isn't something serious.

I was so shocked about Eight's horrible condition that I hadn't even thought about Six. What could have happened that he is so badly wounded? I know Six is an incredible fighter, and from what I've seen from Eight he isn't bad either. Plus they have Six's invisibility and Eight's shape shifting.

My mind races, but I decide to give Eight some space and wait until he is fully healed before I ask him what's going on.

Nine isn't as patient as me, though. He shoves Marina aside and grabs Eight by the shoulders. The intense in his voice surprises me.

"Where is she? Where is Six?" He yells at him.

Eight starts coughing and spits blood on the ground beside him. Nine doesn't seem to care.

"Tell me where she is!" He demands, shaking Eight by the arms. Eight groans in pain and I know I have to intervene.

I tackle Nine and pin him down to the floor. He struggles to raise his head me and I can tell he's furious at me. He's way stronger than me, and I can't keep him at bay much longer. But before he gets the chance to throw me off of him, Eight coughs again and we both turn our attention back to him, when he narrowly mutters two words.

"Six…Trees…"

Then Marina bobs up and crawls back to him. She puts her hands on his head and he closes his eyes.

"Trees?", Sarah mumbles behind me.

Marina sends Nine a venomous look, then nods in my direction. "Trees…I saw a Park full of trees on the drive here. Go! Help Six, I'll fix Eight."

"Right," I say and get off Nine. I offer him a hand, but he doesn't even look at it and pushes me away. He pulls himself together, brushes the dust off his shirt and then points at Sarah.

"You. Get the Loric chests and bring them outside. And you," he spits out and points at me. "Come with me."

Then he runs out the house, faster than any normal human can, and disappears down the street

I scowl at the way he talks to Sarah, but it's not the right time for hard feelings. I know Six might be in danger. Any second I waste could be the second she dies.

"Try to contact Six with telepathy," I say to Ella.

Then I kiss Sarah goodbye and turn around. As I speed in the direction Nine has gone off to I hear her shout "be careful!"

I race down the street and catch just a glimpse of Nine disappearing around the corner. I sprint after him and corner yell for him to wait up at the next, but he only speeds up, so there's nothing left to do but follow him.

As I chase him through the streets of the town, I think about the way he reacted to Six' missing. He almost killed Eight right there, trying to find out where she is. I would never expect Nine to care about anyone this much. Except for himself, maybe.

I have no idea where we are by the time I catch up to him. When we got here two days ago , the city had seemed much smaller. I hope Nine knows where he's going, or else it will probably take us hours to find that park Eight spoke about.

Just when I am about to ask Nine where we're heading, I hear two gunshots from close by. Nine and I take the street to our right, from where the shots came. Two more blocks and we reach the park Marina told us about. It is round shaped and its diameter is less than ten yards. Trees grow all over the place, except for a circular clearing in the middle.

No sign of Six.

One more gunshot, then silence. One of the trees rustles and then I see her.

Six is comes jumping down from a treetop near the clearing, her dyed blond hair wafting around her. As she hits the ground a pile of ash slowly sinks down to the ground from the tree she has just stood on. Six looks exhausted and hurriedly turns her head from side to side, as if being hunted, but at least she's alive.

I gasp when I see the cuts and wounds all across her body. Her shirt and trousers are fully covered in a mix of blood and ash, as if she had been dunked in it. When she spots us running towards her, she raises her hand in alarm, shouting at us to stop.

Slithering I come to a stand, just outside the park, but Nine just keeps going until he is in the middle of the clearing, right next to Six. He gives her a hug and almost lifts her off the ground.

"Thank god you're alive, Six! We were so worried", he laughs, and I allow myself a relieved sigh. I start trotting towards them, happy that Six is okay. Well, not exactly okay, she's struggling to stand on her own; but at least she's not dead or got captured by Mogs or what else could have happened.

Nine lets go of her and takes a step back to examine a few of the wounds on her leg, and I get a look at her face. Except for a couple of smaller cuts her head has been left unharmed. With Marina's help she will be alright in just a few minutes. That's a weight off my mind.

I expect Six to laugh and say something witty, like she always does. She'll probably laugh at us for worrying so much, and then she'll keep teasing us about it for the rest of the week.

Instead, when I look into her hazel eyes, I see the exact opposite.

Fear.

Six is afraid.

No, she's terrified. Tears run down her cheeks, but she looks too shocked to speak. From her expression I know something is about to happen. Something bad. Something horrible, horrible enough to frighten even her. Her eyes tell me to stop where I am standing right now, to stay away from the Park. It sends freezing chills down my spine.

In exactly that second, when I ask myself what on earth could scare Six – Six, the bravest person I know – like that, the earth starts shaking.

I am thrown off my feet; inches from where I was standing half a second ago the ground splits into pieces and a gigantic tree root shoot out of the soil. I look around and see the same thing happening all around the park. The roots grow bigger and bigger and intertwine so fast they become blurry, and still more spread out of the ground. The asphalt of the road below me cracks and I jump out of the way just in time to dodge two roots that shatter the entire street. The noise is deafening.

I role off and come to my feet, only to immediately get thrown back down by another root that rises from the crack in the asphalt.

Just as I lift my head again, the rumble disappears, as suddenly as it started.

The tree roots have stopped moving, too, and now I can see they've wrapped themselves in a perfectly round ball around the park; the net of vines is so tight it's impossible to tell how thick it is.

And trapped in the middle of the whole thing Six and Nine scream at the top of their lungs.

* * *

Hello everyone!

I can't thank you people enough for the awesome reviews I got from you. It really makes me happy to see someone actually read my story :)

Make sure to keep track of it if you liked it up 'til now. I'll try to keep writing about one chapter per 3 days.

Please make sure to review, too, maybe tell me what you think. It really keeps my motivation up.

Thanks a lot for reading my story again :)


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

The icy feeling vanishes when my last rip returns to its proper place.

I'm not exactly sure how I broke so many of them. Maybe when the sudden explosion had ripped me from my feet. Maybe when Six had pulled me right back up and I hit my back on that car. Maybe when two of those really big Mogs jumped down from the trees in the park and landed on top of me. Or maybe it was just when Nine shook the hell out of me.

My heart is still racing and I force myself to take long, deep breaths.

"You okay?" Marina asks with a concerned look on her face and helps me stand.

I check my head, then my shoulder. Not even a scratch is left.

"Never felt better. Thanks to you," I answer and grin at her. She blushes and strokes a flick of hair behind her ear. For a second our eyes meet, then we both look away, even though I out of the corner of my eyes I can see she's smiling. I am tempted to hug her. To just hold her in my arms for saving my life once again.

To thank her, just like I should have after all she did for me in that US base two days ago. To tell her how much I'm sorry that I didn't do it earlier.

But Ella brings me back to reality.

"What's going on, Eight?" She tugs at my sleeve. "I tried to get through to Six with telepathy, but I couldn't reach her."

"I don't know…" I say and try to remember what happened. Surprisingly, it doesn't come to me quite that easily. I close my eyes to help me concentrate.

"Let me see…I remember we got separated. About fifty Mogadorian soldiers ambushed us in a park on our way back from the store." I grit my teeth. "Something hit my head and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in a car. There were about five soldiers with their guns aimed at me, so I thought I'd just wait until there was a bump in the road and then teleport out of the car. It actually worked, only that, just a second before I got away from them, one of them shot me in the shoulder, as he realized what I was about to do.

You can't imagine the pain, getting hit by those Mog guns at point blank range. It's just unbearable. I landed on the street and almost got run over by them. Blind and disoriented from the pain, I managed to turn the car upside down using telekinesis, then I ran here, as much as you can call it running. It was more of a stumble and fall. I didn't know how long I could still make it, without collapsing right on the spot. My shoulder was bleeding pretty seriously, and I felt like I'd faint any moment."

"It's okay," Ella says and pats my hand. I feel odd, being comforted by a twelve year old. Marina gives me another worried glance.

"Do you know what happened to Six?" Ella asks. "You said something about trees when Nine asked you," she reminds me.

Right, there was something about trees. I bite my lip and try to remember. It's something Six said when we ran into that park. Something she kept repeating. Something important… Damn, why is it so hard to remember? Those Mogs must have hit my head really hard. What did Six say?

I can almost feel it on the tip of my tongue, when Sarah clears her throat at the top of the stais to the bedrooms. The small distraction completely rips me out of my thoughts.

I let out a disappointed grunt and scowl at Sarah, but she doesn't notice.

She struggles to drag our Loric chests behind her, and when she tries getting all four of them down the stairs Marina just lift them down with my telekinesis.

"Thanks. I never thought the chests would be so heavy," Sarah puffs and puts her hands on her hips. She's out of breath, just from getting the chests from the bedrooms to the stairs.

"Well you're just human. Of course they're heavy for you," I say, just before realizing this might have come out way more offensively than I had intended. She looks at me with a raised eyebrow and presses her lips together, but doesn't say anything. I take a mental note to be more sensitive around her.

"Anyway, we have to move; Six might still be in danger. Plus, those Mogs will probably know where we are, and I definitely don't want to be here when they come", Marina reminds us. Sarah comes down the stairs. "Neither do I."

"Right, let's go then," I say, and just as I want to bolt down the street, Ella holds me back and motions towards Sarah.

"Oooooh. Yeah, umm…" I studder. I forgot she'll never be able to keep up with Marina, Ella and me, if we run. So much about being sensitive.

"The car it is, then."

.

.

"It's just around the corner," Marina says and suddenly I'm back on full alert.

I look out the car window and immediately recognize the place.

Black smoke rises from a couple burning cars nearby and there is a big hole in the asphalt right next to them. It looks like the road has been struck by a lightning bolt or so. Six.

The surrounding buildings' windows are all shattered from what must have been an explosion, and several burglar alarms ring through the street.

One thing keeps me wonder, though: why doesn't one show up. I mean, with so much noise and commotion going on, the must have been someone who would come outside to check on things. But no, no curious pedestrians, nor any angry neighbours, not even the police.

Earlier ,when Six went to the store, before the Mogs had attacked, the street had been full of people. Now there is not a single person outside – besides us.

We take the last turn and my stomach contracts. I can feel the anger inside me rise again. I'm angry about the Mogadorians ambushing us so cowardly, but mostly angry at myself, for letting them catch me off guard.

This time it's going to be different, though. This time I'm prepared. I'm unflappable, no matter what. An army of Mogs? No problem. Hordes of Piken and Krauls? Piece of cake. I'm even geared up for Setrákus Ra.

But when we turn around the corner, my heart still skips a beat.

"Did we take a wrong turn?" Ella asks and I don't think I can answer, even if I tried to. In fact, I don't think I will ever be able to speak again. My jaw must have dropped by at least ten feet. I don't know if I can trust my eyes. What I see just doesn't make sense.

Because in front of us there is no park.

Instead, there is a gigantic dome of what appears to be tree roots, reaching up higher than the surrounding buildings.

The car stops with squealing tires. I rip the door open and stumble out.

It looks like the ball of roots literally grew out of the ground. Confusion smacks me in the face.

"What the hell happened here?" I hear Ella ask from the other side of the car. A moment of silence passes, as no one knows the answer.

"Is that John?" Marina suddenly asks and points towards the structure. Only now do I notice the single silhouette standing all alone in front of the enormous dome.

"John!" Sarah cries out and starts running towards him. He turns around, but keeps his head low. I teleport right beside him.

"Is everything alright? What happened? What is this thing?" I ask him, but I'm not sure he is even listening. He keeps his gaze on his feet.

"I… I couldn't do anything. I just… It just…" He mumbles.

"Just what?" I urge him. He looks up and it seems he only realizes I'm here now.

"It just grew. These roots just suddenly spouted out of the ground. I couldn't…" He gulps before continuing. "I couldn't do anything. One moment, I could still see Six and Nine in the park, and the next second… _this_ just came out of nowhere. Eight, I think… I think they're still inside…I think… I think Six knew, and now they're still inside!"

And then it hits me. What Six said when we ran into the park. The missing piece of memory. She had pointed at a Mog that was pouring vials of liquid over the ground near the trees at the edge of the park. It immediately got soaked into the earth.

'I know that stuff. I've seen a scientist use it in a lab in the military base, just before I got captured.' She said. And then she shouted something that got drowned by the noise the Mogs made. All I understood was 'the trees!', which she kept yelling at me, as if I knew what she meant.

Well, I do now.

John sniffs and I put my arm around his shoulder. He seems to be in shock.

"Hey! It's okay, John," I say. "It's not your fault."

It's mine. The bitterness of this insight makes me even more furious. I should have understood what Six had meant back then. I should have been there with her. I could have teleported both of us out.

But instead I just got captured by the Mogs.

The others come running to us and Sarah throws her arms around John. He finally awakes from his stiffness and kisses her on the cheek. They stay like that for a moment, holding each other in their arms.

Then John pulls away and Sarah suddenly gasps.

Two red dots, the ones sniper rifles have for making aiming easier, are hovering on John's forehead.

And as I'm trying to figure out what is happening, a voice behind us shouts two words.

"Don't. Move."

* * *

Hey there folks!

3rd chapter, thanks for staying with me for this long ;)

I'll try to get the next one out in the next three days again.

Please don't forget to review, as that really is what motivates me and keeps this story going =)

And as always, thanks a lot for reading my story, you can't imagine how happy it makes me :)

EDIT: nothing big, fixed some grammar stuff and added a gap in the middle.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

I never understood what 'my heart leaps into my throat' really means. Up until now.

When your throat is so tight from fear, you almost choke on it; when a sudden, nightmarish terror grabs you by the neck and doesn't let you go; when the Goosebumps makes your hair stand on end so badly, you are afraid it might just fall off.

That's how I feel right now.

Red dots have appeared on Ella's and Eight's heads, even on Sarah's.

My back is turned away the direction the lasers must be coming from, but I'm sure they are aiming at me as well. I don't dare to breathe.

"One move and we take you out, without hesitation," the voice says again and I think I recognize it.

Silence. The wind makes an unnatural cracking noise when it hits the tree roots. I try to find out which direction the voice came from, but it's hard to tell.

Then I hear a single person's footsteps on the road behind me.

"You all are under arrest," the person formally says and this time know who it is. John's enraged expression confirms my suspicions.

"What's up, Agent Walker?" Eight says in a mocking voice and looks past me. "How's your arm doing?"

I can't help but grin, though I'm still terrified as hell. Even when facing death, Eight still is the same playful, cheerful boy I know.

There's an angry snort behind me and I finally turn around, very slowly, careful not to make any quick movements.

And here she is, special FBI agent Walker as she lives and breathes, one hand in a sling, the other one around a pistol. Her bruised face is almost as red with hate and anger as her hair. She limps with her right leg and seems to have trouble to keep her back straight. Our encounter two days ago must have been a bit too much for her.

"Careful, boy! You got thirty rifles on your head right now. If I were you, I wouldn't put my foot into my mouth."

Without moving my head, I try to spot the snipers she's talking about. They must be hiding in the surrounding buildings, but I can't see where. I wonder if I could stop the bullets in time, if they started shooting at us. Would my telekinesis be enough, if I don't know where the shots come from?

"Don't even think about trying anything. These are the best soldiers the American military has. One wrong step and I promise you, you will be dead before you can even raise your arm," Walker says, as if she knows exactly what I'm thinking.

John isn't impressed, though.

"I remember you weren't that confident last time we met," he shouts. "Where has your whining and pleading gone?"

I'm not sure mocking her is the right thing to do, when our life depends on her, but at least John is back to his old self.

Agent Walker nervously glances over her shoulder, then scowls at us in a way that sends icy chills down my spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," She hisses.

"You don't?" Eight raises and eyebrow. "Really? You don't remember begging for your life? Nothing?"

She takes another quick look behind her, as if to make sure no one else is listening.

"You are talking bullshit! That never happened."

Her voice cracks and I wince. The fact that she's denying our encounter can only mean one thing. She either actually got hit really hard on the head or she is trying to hide it from someone. Her troops maybe, or maybe someone way more inconvenient. My nerves tense.

'_Marina! Marina, do you hear me?' _I suddenly hear Ella saying in my head, and it totally takes me by surprise. Before I can hold it back, an alarmed scream escapes my throat.

I can almost feel the thirty red dots move to my head. I flinch and instinctively close my eyes, waiting for the bullets to hit me, but nothing happens.

Of course not, those soldiers are trained well enough to not just shoot me without the command to. Walker gives me a hateful stare, then shakes her head and shrugs.

I dare to breathe again.

'_Well, I guess you did hear me,' _I hear Ella in my head again. I'm prepared for it this time, but I still have to suppress another scream. Having another voice in my head just feels… wrong.

'_Sorry,' _I say in my thoughts._ ' it's just that you've never communicated with me over telepathy. I didn't even know it is possible for you to reach anyone but Six and John..'_

'_Yeah, neither did I. Guess I'm getting better.'_

"Enough with the talking," Walker says and at first I think she means Ella's and my telepathic conversation.

The fear is getting the best of me. I bite my lip and force myself to stay focused.

"Time to proceed to action. And remember, no sudden moves, or you can kiss your heads goodbye" Agent Walker says as she puts her pistol away into a holster at her hip. She starts heading over, getting out five pairs of handcuffs from the pockets of her jacket.

"Hands up, all of you, and keep them there!" She orders.

'_What are we going to do?' _I ask Ella in my thoughts, hoping she still has the telepathic link up. It takes her a second to answer.

'_I'm talking to Sarah, Eight and John right now. Eight thinks he can teleport us out of here.'_

'_All five of us?'_ I say doubtfully. The last time he tried teleporting more than two people at once, one of them landed in a desert and almost died. Plus, teleporting always makes me feel sick, and I'm not eager to do it again.

On the other hand, what choice do we have? There's only one way out of this situation. And I'd do anything to just finally get away from this place, these invisible soldiers, and especially from Walker. She's starting to really scare me.

'_Alright, just tell him to hurry please.' _Isay in thoughts.

'_Hold on,'_ Ella tells me.

Hold on, as if it is that easy. My knees have started shaking and I can tell I'm not far away from fainting. The weight of the last weeks, the loss of so many good friends and the lack of sleep is wearing me down.

Agent Walker is about ten feet away from me when Ella contacts me again.

'_Okay. On the count of five we all grab each other by the hand, so that Eight can teleport. Ready?'_

I take a deep breath, then nod. Walker has reached us.

'_One,' _Ella says.

The FBI agent stops next to John.

'_Two.'_

She places a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, and he lets it happen without resistance. Walker smiles, pleased with herself, then moves on to Sarah.

'_Three.'_

I hear a silent click from John's handcuffs. I hope Walker didn't notice he opened them right back up, but she is too busy celebrating her little triumph.

'_Four.'_

I take in my surroundings; the buildings around the park – or more like what's left of the park; the shattered windows; the smoking cars; the tree roots; the wind in my hair. I soak it all up and don't let it go. For all I know, it might be the last thing I will ever see.

Somewhere out there, thirty sniper rifles are aimed at me right now.

The hopelessness of the whole situation fully hits me.

Who am I kidding? This is suicide. There's no way we're all getting out of here alive. No possible way… And even if we do, Six and Nine will still be lost, trapped inside this giant ball of roots.

I have failed.

I have failed Adelina. I have failed the Loric. And worst of all I have failed my friends.

Up high in the sky, a bird cries out, loud and long. It feels like my death sentence.

'_Five.'_

* * *

Hello everybody!

Yes, it is another cliffhanger XD

All your awesome comments encouraged me to finish this chapter earlier than I had expected.

Now, I got a couple of things to say:

As always thanks so much for your reviews, they really help me =)

Since this chapter was rather short, I will try to get out one or two more until sunday evening.

Next week, from monday to thursday I'll be away, which means I won't have a chance to post any new updates for this period of time.

Hopefully I'll find the time to write one or two chapters while I'm away, though.

So... Make sure to check back next thursday evening/friday afternoon, as new content will hopefully be out by then.

Aaaaaaas always, thanks a ton for reading my story :)


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Time seems to slow down the moment Ella gives us the signal. Everything around me seems to move in slow motion.

I watch as John shoves Agent Walker away from Sarah so hard, she goes flying in a spectacularly wide arc and hits the wall of a building about twenty yards away. Guess we won't be seeing much of her anymore.

The buildings all around the park come alive as a sudden burst of gunfire breaks through their windows. Must be where the snipers have been hiding all along.

Shrieking Gunshots ring in my ears and I suppress the urge to seal them with my hands. I'll be needing my hands to teleport us out of here.

I take a deep breath and try to concentrate at the incoming bullets. My throat gets dry and my stomach tenses up from nervousness.

I redirect a couple of the bullets with telekinesis so they hit the road around us, but Walker was right: Even with the help of John and Marina, it's impossible to stop them all. There's just too many of them coming from too many different angles.

To my left, John steps in front of Sarah to protect her from the gunshots. He says something I can't understand over the deafening noise of the gunshots, then he quickly pulls her to us and they both grab hold of my left hand

A bullet races past my cheek and I flinch. Another one brushes my biceps. I try to hold off as many as possible, but more and more slip through my defence.

Marina dive towards me, grabbing my right hand.

I turn my head to Ella, the only one still missing. Keeping her head low, tucked up between her arms, she is bolting towards us at full speed. She's only fifteen feet away One or two more seconds until she will reach us.

Then the first bullet hits her.

I didn't see this one coming, or else I would have stopped it at all cost. I gasp, but I hesitate to run towards her. If I help her, it means I'll turn my back to at least half of all those snipers. Once I can't see where the shots come from, I won't be able to reflect them and we will get crushed by the soldiers.

Helplessly, I watch as a jolt shakes Ella's little body and she's blown off her feet like a leaf in the wind. She hits the ground and skids to a halt.

Marina cries out and I can tell there's nothing she wants more than to come to Ella's aid, but I hold her back.

"I need you here," I shout at her. "We need you to redirect the bullets with us. Ella will need to take care of herself."

As cruel as it sounds, I know it's the only way. I can't let go of Marina's hand, or else we will all be dead in a matter of seconds.

Ella manages to sit up, staring at the gaping hole in her chest. The bullet got her just underneath the heart, and a stream of blood runs down her shirt. Every move seems to cause her unbearable pain.

Yet, she struggles to her feet.

The effort it must take her is unimaginable, but she starts stumbling towards us, groaning in agony with every step she makes. Her expressions show unbearable suffering and torture, but still, she keeps going, pressing her hands on the wound in her chest.

It amazes me how she doesn't give up yet. Maybe she can still make it. Only a few more steps. I could teleport all of us and then Marina would be able to heal her.

The second bullet hits Ella in the leg.

I hear the cracking noise as it breaks her shin bone. She twists her ankle and falls over, landing head first.

Marina screams at me to let her go, to let her help Ella. She desperately tries to wrench from my grip around her hand, but I can't let go. If I do, the blaze of gunfire will have her killed before she will even halfway reach her. I can't risk losing her, too. I'll never forgive myself.

Ella pants for breath as she spits out blood to the side.

She tries to get up, yelping as she tries shifting her weight to the broken leg. She immediately drops back to her knees.

A single tear rolls out of her eyes, creating tiny cracks in the layer of dirt on her face. It breaks my heart to see her like this and not to be able to do anything about it.

She lies down and tries pulling herself forward with her hands, desperately trying to somehow move towards us

Her unswerving will can't be broken, and the fact that she doesn't give up hurts me even more. Pretty much anyone would just surrender by now; simply faint from the pain and the hopelessness of the situation.

But not Ella.

Her courage and bravery compared to me - being too damn scared to even help her when she shows such strength - makes me want to crawl away into a hole of shame and never come out again.

When the third bullet hits Ella in the shoulder she collapses on the spot.

I can't hold Marina back anymore. She escapes my grasp and dashes towards Ella.

I start rushing after her, when I see a bullet incoming from the corner of my eyes. I immediately know it will hit Marina if she keeps running at exactly that speed. I'm way too upset right now to bring up enough concentration to stop such a small thing.

All I have is a fraction of a second to decide what to do.

If we run over to Ella, we will all be shot in the back by the time we reach her. Those soldiers are trained way better than the ones I've fought against before. Their aim is so accurate, we would all be dead right now if it weren't for our telekinesis.

If I run after Marina and teleport her out, then come back for John and Sarah, they'll probably be perforated by then.

If I get John and Sarah out first, Marina will be dead in a matter of seconds.

My heart pounds so hard it might just explode any second.

I think about what life was like only an hour ago, when all of us still were together in our little apartment.

We had expected the action to be over, at least for a little while. We had allowed ourselves to relax, we had let our guard down and we had got too comfortable, even though we knew our enemies would come after us.

Our laziness is why we got into this whole mess in the first place. It makes me want to slap myself in the face, but there's no time for that.

In fact, there's no time for anything, but this one decision.

The Dilemma rips me apart. I try to think of something, anything that could help me make this choice. Anything that could tell me what to do. What's wrong and what's right.

Ella raises her head, her big, brown, innocent eyes focused on mine. They reflect everything I'm feeling right now: Despair. Anger. Regret.

But there's something else, too. Hope.

Hope for the rest of us to still escape, to still make it out of here.

In a final effort, she motions towards Marina with her head and mouths 'Go!'

A last bullet hits her neck and she stops moving.

The world around me goes silent. All the gunshots, Marina's shouting, even my own heartbeat gets muted.

And I know what I have to do.

I yank John and Sarah forward towards Marina while pulling her back with my telekinesis.

Now that I'm not deflecting any gunshots at all, Nothing stands between the hail of bullets and us. John and I groan at the same time as we are hit multiple times, but we keep going.

My hand is shivering so intensely when I reach out for Marina that I miss. On the second try I get hold of her arm. She yells at me to let go, but I don't. It's what Ella wanted me to do.

I allow myself one last glance at Ella. Lying on the dusty road, her tiny, gentle features look so peaceful, you could mistake her for sleeping.

With a lump in my throat I close my eyes and teleport us out of here.

* * *

Hi everybody!

Fast version, as I am late to a meeting and I wanted to get this out before tomorrow:

Thanks for your overwhelmingly awesome reviews. I probably would have stopped writing at the second chapter or so, if it weren't  
for them

Next thing, as I already said, I'll be away next week. I'll try to write at least one chapter while I'm gone, maybe even more, so make sure to check back next friday.

So, see you all next week, and as always, thanks a damn lot for reading my story :)


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Fifteen people in a jungle. Six are invisible, nine are upside down.

They sit in a circle around some bluishly glowing campfire, their shadows getting lost in the darkness around them.

Suddenly the ground cracks and erupts in an explosion of ash. Enormous brown snakes sprout out of the cracks and hiss at the people around the campfire. Each of the snakes has hundreds of heads that branch out in all directions, just like that creature in ancient Greek mythology – I always forget the name.

Only these things have something else about them, something botanical. They remind me of big branches, or tree roots…

For a moment, the snakes hover high above the people's heads, menacing silhouettes in the darkness. Then they collapse down on the fifteen people.

Before anyone can react, the creatures wrap themselves around the campfire-people until no one can move. They squeeze so tightly, that breathing gets harder and harder, and one after the other the fifteen faint. The campfire gets extinguished and the whole scene turns black.

I realize none of this makes any sense at all and wake up.

I keep my eyes closed, enjoying the last moments before I remember what happened before I fell asleep. It can't be something good, that's for sure.

The air smells of electricity, and I have a metallic taste in my mouth. There's a steady buzz close by, like from high voltage.

I take a deep breath, then try to think back to the latest turns of fate.

Let me see, John, Nine, me and the others were in that military base in a desert in New Mexico. We fought all those Mogs and Setrákus Ra, then they suddenly disappeared. With the whole base empty, we stole a car and drove all the way up to Michigan; surprisingly enough, there were no further incidents.

Until we got to that small town near St. Ignace, I think and my heart skips a beat.

Oh god, now I remember. The Mogs' ambush. I walked right into their trap, and there was nothing I could do about it. The fight with the hordes of alien soldiers, they were all just there for one reason: to keep me inside that park, to distract me from the real threat. The tree roots, John's and Nine's appearance just before it happened, me warning them, John staying out and Nine running right into the trap; it all comes back to me at this very moment.

With a jerk I open my eyes.

A shimmering blue light just like the one in my dream dazzles me. For a second I'm confused and pinch myself in the arm, just to make sure I'm not sleeping anymore.

Yes, fully awake.

I sit up way too fast and a fierce pain shoots through my ribcage. My head is spinning, as if I had just taken a rollercoaster ride.

I can still feel it in my bones, the shock and the horror from when the ground shook and those giant roots wrapped themselves around me. At first they had only been at my ankles, to hold me in place. When I started flailing, they crawled up all around me and squeezed so hard I couldn't breathe anymore.

My whole body aches, and it literally feels as if I got pelted several times.

With a loud groan I turn my head and look around.

I'm in some sort of hall. The floor is made of plain, polished marble, which feels cold under my bare feet. The dazzling blue light that stung into my eyes comes from all around me. It takes a while until I get used to the brightness.

I am surrounded by a wall of this strange blue light. Squinting my eyes I can make out blurred movements on its surface. Long, circular shapes, racing around the bluely glowing wall.

It's beautiful and frightening at the same time, but there's something calming, mesmerizing about it.

I slowly crawl towards the light, too dizzy to stand up and walk. When it's only inches away, my hands reach out towards the light as if of their own accord.

The wall radiates an oddly inconvenient heat the closer I get, but I somehow can't force myself to stop. The blurry glow pulls me in like a mot in the light.

Just a second before I touch the blue surface, someone behind me whispers "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I flinch and turn around, trying to find out where the voice came from, but I can't see anyone in the room.

"Up here," the person says.

I raise my head and spot Nine, cowering upside down on the ceiling.

"Finally woke up, huh?" He says and jumps down to me, doing half a front flip so he lands on his feet. Pleased with himself, he raises his arms and gestures towards the glowing wall.

"This, my dear Six, is a force field. If you touch it you will be out for at least another ten hours."

"Ten hours?" I say, my mind trying to process what this means. How long have I been out? What happened during that time? Are the others okay?

"Where are we?" I ask Nine.

"I can't tell you for sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's definitely no Mog base. All the guards I've seen up until now were human."

"They work together, have you forgotten? The government and the Mogs, they're in cahoots together."

"That's the point, Six. Maybe things aren't quite as obivous as they seem. The whole thing sucks out loud," he says and keeps his gaze on the blue wall. "Our captors might have alien technology, but they're definitely not Mogs."

"But it were the Mogs who attacked us in the park." I argue.

"Maybe the humans were using them as bait, to get you into that trap. I mean, I'm sure Setrákus Ra would have wanted us to be brought directly to him, or at least into a Mog base. He wouldn't trust the government with such an important task."

I let that sink in. What Nine's saying does make sense somehow, but I'm not really convinced.

"So we don't know where we are, neither what happened to the others. Got any idea on how we're going to get out of here?" I ask.

Nine sits down next to me and I look at him. His usually neat appearance has been reduced to a bruised, wounded, dirt-covered boy, his long black hair ruffled and full with dirt. He looks almost as bad as I feel, but he still is as self-confident as ever.

"Don't know. Well, this force field thing is telekinesis proof. And you can't break through it, believe me, I've tried many times."

I tilt my head. The way he says it makes me wonder how often he has faced such force fields before.

"And there's no hole in it? How are they going to bring us water and food?" I ask.

"Well, don't ask me, they haven't brought any yet, and I'm not sure if they are planning to."

"What about the floor and the ceiling."

He gazes at me for a second. "What exactly do you want to do? Punch a hole in it and escape, like in those westerns?"

"Kind of, yeah, or do you have a better idea?" I answer.

He looks me in the eyes for a moment, then looks away.

"Good luck trying," he puffs and lies down on his back, his arms folded under his head.

"So you suggest we just sit here and do nothing?" I ask, but he only shrugs. His indifference starts bugging me.

"Seriously now, Nine, you're the one who always drives us to act. What do you want to do?"

Again, he shrugs and shakes his head.

"How can you possibly be so calm? I mean, we don't know where we are, or who is keeping us prisoners, or how and when we're going to get out. We don't know what happened to John and the others. Hell, we don't even know if they're alive.

And you, you are just lying here, not even giving a damn about any of this. Do you even care about anybody except for yourself?" I rant.

Nine doesn't react, I'm not even sure he's listening to me. He just keeps staring at the ceiling. Now I'm really mad.

"You don't even know how helpless you are," I yell at him, and that's when he's had enough.

"You think so?" he says and suddenly sits up. He grabs my wrist and forces me to turn around to him.

"You really think so? You think I wouldn't do anything, _anything_, to get out of here and find the others? Do you even know what you are talking about?" He roars at me, and his voice is so full of emotions he must have kept back for a far too long time, that I feel sorry for shouting at him.

"Do you even know who you are talking to?" He yells. "Has John ever told you where he found me, when you were in Spain, looking for Seven?"

"He said you were…" I begin, but he interrupts me.

"In a Mog cave, yeah. In a prison. And for how long, my dear Six? For. A. Whole. Goddamn. _Year_!" He yells, stressing every single word. I blink in irritation.

"I'm sorry, Nine I didn't…" I start saying, but again he doesn't let me finish my sentence.

"Didn't what, Six? Didn't _what_? Didn't think I had a hard life of my own? Do you believe you're the only one who went through horrible things in all these years we spent on this planet? Do you think you are the only one who had to witness his loved ones getting murdered right in front of your eyes, while the only thing you can do is watch?"

Tears form in the back of my eyes, and I try to clear my throat, but Nine doesn't leave me the chance.

"You think we are helpless right now? You think we are? Let me tell you a story about being goddamn _helpless_," he spits out the word as if to get rid of a bad memory.

"Pretty much a year before the day John and Sam came to that Mog cave and busted me out, I loved a girl. A girl so smart, cute and beautiful you can't even imagine. And what happened, my dear Six?

The Mogs kidnapped her parents, forced her to turn me in to save them. When the Mogs had me and she finally got her parents back, they killed her." His eyes glow from a frightening amount of fury.

"Oh, but they did not only kill her, they ripped her to pieces. And they forced me to watch every second of it.

Killing her had no sense. She had played her part. They could have just let her walk away.

They didn't benefit from her death. They didn't do it for a greater cause. The only reason they killed her was for their own amusement.

So they could make me suffer. So they could see the look on my face when it happened. So that I would have all the time in world to replay the scene in my mind over and over again in all the time I helplessly sat in my prison cell.

Now, my dear Six, I hope you understand you don't have a clue what helpless means."

His face is red and distorted from anger. I can't believe what he just told me.

He gulps loudly, I don't dare to breathe, and exactly in that moment a hole in the bluely shining wall appears and special FBI agent Walker steps through it.

She walks on crutches and a big bandage is wrapped around her head, but she doesn't seem to care about her injuries. There's a disturbing, almost insane look in her eyes. Her mouth is stretched to a triumphant, diabolic grin.

"Welcome, Number six and nine," she says in a bittersweet tone. "I hope you are enjoying your stay."

And then, as if she can't hold it back any longer, she blurts out a sentence that makes the lump in my throat feel twice as big.

"We have Number five."

* * *

Hey everybody!

I'm back with a brandnew chapter, yaaaaaaaaay ;)

Thanks for all the following and reviewing. Helped me get through a rough day :)

I'll try to get out a chapter in the next three days, as usual, but you might have to wait a while longer this time, as there are a couple of things I have to do first.

Nonetheless, I wish you all a good time.

And as always, Thanks two tons for reading my story :)


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Marina hasn't said a single word since we got on the train.

All alone in her seat row she sits as far away from me as possible, her legs pulled up to her body, her arms wrapped around them. She leans her head against the window, lost in thoughts, the eyes halfway closed. Every now and then it looks like she's fallen asleep, but then she sighs and shifts her position.

Her usually soft expressions have turned into a grimace of despair and anger, anger at me. The rosy colour of her cheeks has disappeared, now she's as pale as a corpse. Even though mentioning corpses probably isn't the best idea right now.

Of course, Marina blames me for Ella's death. If I had let Marina go to help her, who knows, maybe Ella would still be with us now. Who knows?

Well, I do. I am one hundred percent sure that not only Ella wouldn't be here right now; Marina would have been killed by the soldiers before she would even get the chance to heal Ella.

Remembering the image of Ella lying on the road near the park feels like I'm being stabbed in the stomach. Brave little Ella, who never harms a fly.

Marina sobs and I shake my head. A few seats in front of me, John and Sarah have fallen asleep long ago. They're all cuddled up, leaning their heads against each other. John has his arms around Sarah's shoulders while she hugs his chest.

Seeing them slumbering so peacefully side by side with Marina being all alone just a few feet away gives me a heartache.

There's nothing I'd like to do more right now than to just walk over to her and apologize. To tell her how sorry I am about Ella. I know how much she meant to Marina. Well, she meant a lot to all of us. After all, she was one of the last of the Loric. But to Marina, she was even more, almost like a little sister.

I want to go over there sit down beside her, but I just can't get myself to.

Half an hour passes, and a loudspeaker announcement tells us that we will be at the Canadian border soon. I start feeling thirsty, so I decide to go and get something in the dining car.

I walk past Marina, who doesn't even appreciate me of a view. Gritting her teeth, she stubbornly keeps staring out the window. Like a dying duck in a thunderstorm I open the door to the next car.

The dining car is on the other end of the train, and on my way I pass a few other passengers; not too many, after all it's two in the morning, but I still try keeping my head low.

Pictures of John, Nine and Six are all over the news, warning the population about those 'dangerous terrorists'. Most of them aren't exactly accurate and I haven't seen any about the rest of us, but I'm pretty sure that after our encounter with the soldiers they figured out what we all look like. It's best to just go by unnoticed.

When I reach the dining car, a silent rain begins to fall. The seller at the kiosk is a big, half-bald guy with a short goatee. He seems to be bored out of his mind, as except for me there's only two other costumers in the whole car, an older couple sitting at a table.

I buy two bottles of water, a bar of chocolate, and today's newspaper.

"That's nine dollars," the seller tells me and while he turns around to bring me my order, he shouts over his shoulder "Those terrorists aren't going to give up so easily, huh?"

"I'm sorry?" I say irritatedly. The seller throws the newspaper on the counter and points at the headline of the main page.

"There, read!" He says and scratches his nose.

'Terrorist attack in Michigan,' it says in big red letters. I swallow so hard I start coughing. There's a picture of the park Six and I got ambushed in. Someone has burnt down the giant ball of tree roots – probably the soldiers – and now the whole scene is one whole image of destruction. The buildings around the park have taken heavy damage from the fire, almost all the windows are shattered, and there still is smoke rising from some exploded cars to the right. The road is perforated from all the bullets the soldiers fired at us.

There's no sign of Ella, neither of Six and Nine. I just hope they weren't inside the root cage anymore when the fire started. The thought of it drains all the colour from my face.

"You okay?" The seller asks with a worried look at me. I compose myself and nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…" I cough again, trying to find an excuse for reacting in that way.

"It's just, I, umm, grew up in that town. I used to walk through this park every day, and now it's… gone." I try to let out a convincing sob.

"Aww, that's awful. So sorry to hear that," he says in a sympathetic voice. "That must be shocking for you."

I nod, not really listening. There's an article about the incident on page three, and I have to tell the others, so I thank the seller, who gives me a encouraging pat on the shoulder, pay for the groceries and head back towards the door.

When I walk past the table with the couple, I suddenly notice they are watching me closely. I stop dead in my track and glance at them out of the corner of my eyes.

Something's obviously wrong with them. The woman is muffled up in a long, thick coat. From her nose downwards her strangely pale face is buried in a colourful scarf and she wears giant sunglasses. The only visible part of her body is her long black hair.

The man has grey hair, brown eyes and almost no eyebrows. There are purple scars all over his hollow cheeks. He is wearing nothing but sweatpants and a tank top, revealing more scars on his arms.

I hold my breath as he stands up right in front of me. My heart is racing while I feverishly think about what I should do.

"Is my coffee done yet," the man says aloud without taking his eyes off me.

"Of course, sir. Want me to bring it to you?" I hear the seller answer from behind me.

"No, it's fine, I'll go get it myself", the man says and starts heading towards the counter. When he comes close to me, my whole body tenses and I prepare myself for the worst.

I'm ready to fight him. I'm ready to smash him into the next wall with telekinesis. I'm ready to do everything needed to protect myself as soon as he makes a wrong move.

He is so close now I can smell him. A mix of noble perfume and sweat rises to my nose.

Some of his scars catch my eye. They seem fresh, not fully healed, as if they have just recently been inflicted.

Another step and he'll be close enough to attack me. I bend one leg and take a defensive stance.

Then he is only one inch away from me, and that's when something confusing happens.

Instead of attacking, he trips over my right leg and falls to the ground.

"Malcolm, are you okay?" The woman shouts in a strangely pitched voice and dashes forward to help him up. Flummoxedly I watch as the man leans on her and holds his head. While he embarrassedly looks around, I try to understand what on earth just happened. Kind of the opposite of what I expected.

"Thank you, Mary." The says to the woman, then turns to me.

"I am terribly sorry, young man," he says. "I must not have seen you there." Which is funny, as he has been observing me for as long as I've been in the car.

"My bad," I mutter, eager to get away fast. I give the couple a short apologizing smile and quickly walk out the door. Only then do I relax and allow myself a relieved sigh.

On my way back I wonder why I overreacted so badly. After all, it was just an old couple, and that's really not what I should be afraid of. Okay, the woman did look a bit strange and suspicious, but who am I to judge human fashion.

I seriously expected that frail old man to attack me. I shake my head. Now I can only laugh about myself. I'm seeing enemies in everyone and everything. After we find Six and Nine, we really need some time off, maybe go somewhere safe and relax for a while.

I bite my tongue when I suddenly remember it was the illusion of safety that caused Ella's death and Six' and Nine's capture. We had thought ourselves safe for once, and look what it had lead us to.

Well, it's our own fault. Just as it had been, back when my Cêpan Reynolds died. It's always the same. You get used to a certain situation, try to make the best of it, and then, _bam_, something terrible happens.

We will never be safe, I sourly realize. Not until the last Mogadorian has been reduced to a pile of ash.

I reach our car, where John and Sarah still are asleep and Marina still stares out the window, all alone. I take a deep breath and, before I can reconsider it, I sit down next to her. She looks at me with those deep, thoughtful eyes, and I can almost feel the anger spark out of them.

"Hey," I say, and she turns away from me. I sigh but don't give it up yet.

"Want some water?" I ask and hold up one of the bottles I bought. Marina looks at it for a moment.

"No water in the world can make it up," she silently mutters and I frown.

"Listen, Marina," I begin, trying to find the right words for what I want to tell her. "I know what I did when they opened fire on us is unforgivable. After all the times you saved my life I just disrespected you, I held you back against your will and worst of all I kept you from helping Ella."

Only mentioning Ella's name makes Marina sob again, and I feel like the worst person in the world.

"This probably sound like a really, really bad excuse, but I was trying to protect you. All I did was because I didn't want to lose you. I was too damn afraid to let you go, because I was sure you'd die the second I would.

Maybe, if I had let you be at her side right away, there would have been a way to save her. And yes, in that case it's my fault she's dead now."

Saying it out loud makes my throat feel completely dry and rough. She stares at me with a raised eyebrow, tilting her head. I can tell she's still as angry as before, but at least she's listening.

"Yes, in that case I am the only one there is to blame and your anger is justified. But, and it kills me from the inside, if I had the choice again, if I had to decide whether I would give you the chance of saving Ella at the risk of losing you own life, I still would never let you go." I hold her gaze for as long as I can.

"You don't have to understand me, or even forgive me," I say and my voice cracks. "I just wanted you to know."

I feebly stand up and with hanging arms I walk over to the seat row I sat in earlier.

I feel exhausted, as if all the energy just got drained out of me, together with what I said to Marina.

The scene at the park jumps to my mind. Too tired to block it out, I go through it all again. It's like watching a movie: John shoving agent Walker away, the soldiers engaging fire on us, Ella getting hit, Marina screaming at me, trying to help her. My limbs clench as I can't shake off the images.

'Go,' Ella had said when she knew all hope for her was lost. Go. She knew it was too late for her, but she wanted to still save us. Heroic last words for a twelve year old.

I had followed Ella's last will and teleported all of us about two blocks away from the park. Marina had screamed and cried and begged me to take her back. When she realized I wouldn't, she had started running back. I had grabbed her with telekinesis, stopped her in the middle of two steps and dragged her with us. At first she had tried to resist, partly with her own telekinesis, partly just flailing. As I have been training my legacies for years and she hardly ever had any practise, she soon gave up and fell into a furious silence.

A movement to my side makes me jump. I'm relieved it's just Marina coming towards me. Actually, I'm more than relieved, I'm hopeful.

She rubs her tear-stained eyes and presses her lips together so they form a thin line. Clearing her throat examines me, then – to my surprise - sits down next to me.

For a while, she doesn't say anything. The train rushes by rivers and small villages. The constant, silent rain falls down and hundreds of raindrops pound against the windows.

"I forgive you," Marina finally says and looks at me with sad eyes.

"You do?" I raise both eyebrows, then smile at her. "Umm, wow, thanks. That's awesome!"

She looks down at her feet and tugs a flick of hair behind her ear.

"I came to the conclusion that it's not your fault. I can't just blame you, knowing you only tried to protect me. I mean, you weren't the one who fired those bullets," she says in a steady voice. "And I'm sorry for being so mad at you. I was just so caught up in the horror of Ella's death and you dragging me away from her that I forgot you only tried to help."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I say and she tries to smile, but all she manages is a suppressed sob. She presses her eyelids together, trying to hold back another wave of tears, and I patiently wait until she has composed herself.

"Eight," Marina says after a moment, her voice still shaking. "I… I thought about it. About Ella's death." She stops and shakes her head. "I mean, of course I thought about it, I can hardly think of anything else." She rests her head on her elbows and gazes out the window. "It doesn't make sense. I mean, why isn't there another scar on our ankles now? If she died, another scar must have appeared right away, right?"

I sigh and look at her. I had thought about that, too. When we got to earth and the charm to protect us form the Mogadorians had been cast, it also included this sort of warning system. If one of the remaining Garde died, a mark with his or her Loric number would burn itself into our legs.

Ella is one of the remaining Garde, which means there should be four scars now. The thing is, Ella wasn't there when the charm had been cast, and as much as I want to, I can't believe she is part of the spell.

The fact that no scar has appeared doesn't have to mean anything.

But I don't have the heart to take away that last piece of hope Marina has left.

So I just nod.

"That means she must still be alive," Marina says and I nod again. She closes her eyes, leaning her head back. Despite the despair of the situation, a wide grin slowly forms on her face.

And after all that happened Marina deserves that bit of false hope.

* * *

Hello everybody!

First of all, thank you people for all the new reviews. Every single one of them helps me write these chapters and I'll never take them for granted. Seriously, you guys are kind of writing this story yourself, if that makes any sense.

Today's chapter took a bit longer and for that it also is a bit longer. There's not too much action going on in this one, hope you like it, though. Let me know if having some time-out-of-action chapters is okay or if you want to have one cliffhanger after the other ;)

So, there have been some comments asking me to write whose point of view the chapter is written from. Personally, as a reader I would prefer not to have it like that, as I think part of the fun and 'mystery' of this kind of story is finding out whose POV it is. Also it might spoiler some things I have in mind for the next few chapters. But that's just a personal opinion, and as we all know 'the costumer - which is you, the readers - is king' so you guys tell me.

We could make a forum thread or something to discuss such things, if you want to. Or I could just answer the reviews in my own reviews to my own story, I don't know. Let me know what you think.

So: are actionless chapters okay, do you want me to write whose POV it is, and do you want to discuss such things with me (and if yes, how)?

Next chapter might take a little longer, still quite busy, but stay tuned folks.

That's all for now, have a wonderful day, and as always thanks a load for reading my story :)


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Twenty armed men take me to my cell, and I can almost sense the twenty guns pointed at my head.

It's a strange feeling, being at the mercy of someone who thinks you are a dangerous alien. Of someone, who is so damn scared that he will pull the trigger at your slightest move. Who is so damn nervous that he flinches every time you take a breath.

I'm still not sure what upset them so much. Well, the part about being a dangerous alien may be true, but still, that's no reason to treat me like that. I mean, what have I ever done wrong?

Okay, so I knocked out about fifty soldiers in the last couple of hours, but, hey, who could blame me? After all, everyone has days like this sometimes.

One of those days, when you get shot down and captured, thrown into a secret military underground prison, escape your cell, get shot down and captured again, wake up in the same damn cell, escape it for a second time, get tasered and drugged, black out, wake up in a different cell, escape it again, get captured for the fourth time in one day and then get dragged down endless stairs and corridors.

I'm sure everyone can relate.

Each time I escape there's more guards, more guns aimed at me. It's ridiculous, but I get the feeling they have an endless supply of soldiers down here. You'd think the US government has more important things to send them to, but no, leave it to the military to station hundreds of men down in a secret, hidden underground base.

The funny thing is how it doesn't actally matter how many men they send. Once I unleash my legacies, it will take way more than some humans to keep me under control.

The fact that I don't just break those shackles around my wrists and ankles, throw the men that push me forward against the tunnel walls and bolt back up all the way has three reasons:

Firstly, all my guards are human. They may have fired at me multiple times, but after all they're just following orders. Maybe I'll have a word with whoever gave those orders, talk some sense into them, show them I'm not the real enemy, but nothing more. It's not the humans I want, it's the Mogadorians.

Secondly, if I used my powers right here, in this narrow tunnel about a mile under the surface, the whole structure would probably collapse on top of me and I'm not sure if I would survive the impact, not to mention I have no idea how to get out of here.

And thirdly, I mustn't compromise my secret. Under no circumstances. The time hasn't come yet.

Time… I wonder how long it has been since I got captured. It could be just a few hours, it could be a day, it could even be a week. In the pervasive darkness that has been surrounding me ever since those soldiers dragged me down here, it's impossible to tell. Especially since I was unconscious for half of the time.

Now I'm wide awake, though. The drugs they gave me a while ago to keep me dizzy have worn off, and I try to take in every detail I come across. It will make finding my way back easier.

Two turns to the right, one to the left, then about fifty feet down a stone staircase. It's the sixty-eighth staircase up until now, as far as I counted right. Which doesn't have to actually be true, since those drugs earlier made me hallucinate some weird stuff. Seriously weird stuff.

Something about my old Cêpan, telling me to never try the Winston hook, whatever that is, but to rather do the Winston double. If I remember correctly – which probably isn't the case– he turned into a blue horse and handed me the most recent copy of the New York times. 'King Kong newly elected Miss America,' the headlines read and I remember being really jealous.

Who knows if I've made up some stairs or not in all this crap.

Not that it would matter, anyway. If I was alone, I'd be hopelessly lost in this confusing maze of tunnels and endless corridors, even if I knew how many staircases there were.

Guess there is a bright side to the guards dragging me all the way. At least they know where we're going.

We turn around a corner into a particularly long corridor. Dimmed light from rusted neon tubes slightly brightens up a group of five big, muscular soldiers standing guard in front of a heavy, circular iron door.

The soldiers stand tall, stiff as a poker, and salute when they see the guards and me coming. Each of them must be tall enough to play in the NBA, and strong enough to rip people my size to pieces with just one hand. They are all armed to the teeth, holding up weapons I've only seen in movies before. Knives, grenades and other deadly toys, some of which I don't even know, stick out of their black leather belts.

When they spot me, their faces grimace to evil, cruel smiles. The one to the left has at least five crooked teeth, the guy next to him has no teeth at all. The soldier in the middle misses one eye, the two to his right both have a similar long scar on their foreheads. All of them are covered in tattoos that show images of guns, death and explosions.

I gulp.

"Listen, guys," I say to the men surrounding me. "I've changed my mind. I want to stay with you instead of those folks here. Don't you have some other dungeon you want to pull me to? Think about the great times we had, you dragging me along, me cursing at you. It was so much fun."

The five soldiers just laugh. The guards that have been accompanying me before seem to be just as intimidated by them as I am.

"Got a new delivery for you guys," one of the guards says and motions the two men who are dragging me to bring me forward. I struggle with my arms and legs, and it almost looks as if I can free myself, but two more come to their aid and I don't stand a chance.

They pull me forward, towards the five hoarse soldiers, and the closer I get, the more I actually realize the seriousness of the situation. I've literally been dragged into a deep hole of shit.

"Number Five," A guard behind me says. "I want you to meet the 'Alpha squad'. They're the cruellest, most brutal, most barbaric men the military has."

He makes a dramatic pause before pointing at the two guys with the scars on their foreheads.

"I don't want to scare you, but the Caine-brothers here, they have been doing front line secret operations in every single war in the last thirty years."

The Caine-brothers grin at me and I immediately look away.

"Those two gentlemen right here, they know more than a hundred ways to kill you with just their small fingers, so I recommend staying away from them," he says nodding at the two soldiers to the left.

"And you might know this young man's face. He's a wanted criminal in more than fifteen different countries. He did things parents tell their kids to scare them. Seriously, you won't sleep without nightmares if I tell you."

As if to confirm this, the soldier in the middle grunts, spits out on the floor and starts heading towards me.

"Charmed," I say, trying to sound tough, but my voice cracks and the last part of the word comes out as a shrill squeek.

These guys really start scaring the hell out of me, and I wonder if I shouldn't use my legacies anyway. At least a little bit of my powers, after all this is an emergency.

But no, I promised, and nothing in the world will make me break it before it's time.

The soldier in the middle – the wanted criminal – reaches me and the other guards reverently take a step back from us. Once they let go off me, I see my opportunity and immediately grab it.

The shackles around me ankles make it hard, but I still manage to close the gap between me and the big soldier in a split-second. He towers at least three heads above me, but by the grit of my teeth I jump to his level and give him a clout that would knock out any other human.

This one, though, doesn't even stumble backwards. He just snatches me out of the air as if nothing happened, and throws me over his shoulder before I even set a foot on the floor.

"Well, Number Five, you're grounded," he says in a deep, intimidating voice and carries me to the heavy circular door. The four other soldiers snicker, or whatever you want to call it, as they sound more like grunting walruses while doing so.

One of the guys who can kill me with their small fingers types a code into a hidden keyboard beside the door and it opens with a loud rumble.

Before I can do anything, the soldiers shove me through the door inside a dark, musty prison cell with so much power, I hit the wall at the other side of the room. Again, the guards laugh.

My heart beats in my throat, as I turn around to watch the door slowly close again. Desperation hits me and I try to get up and get through the remaining crack, but I forgot my legs are tied. I trip and fall headfirst to the ground.

I taste blood in my mouth and feel it running down my chin. Helplessly, with nothing left to do but watch as the small door closes and leaves me in complete darkness. The last thing I see is the crooked smile of the soldiers, laughing at my hopeless struggle.

The mechanism in the door snaps shut and locks me inside the cell with a deafening rattle.

The sound of destiny. And, oh, what an unfortunate destiny.

Broken and defeated I lay on my back, trying to keep myself from hyperventilating. The frustration is just too much.

One of the last of my kind, I have to spend the rest of my miserable life in a prison cell on a planet so far away from home.

Surviving for this long, training with my Cêpan, it's all in vain now.

My whole life I've been prepared for this moment, and now that it's here, I don't know what to do. The promise to keep my secret nags at me and for the millionth time I wish I had never made it. If I could just use one of my powers, just for a second, I could bust myself out of here in no time at all. I shake my head about my own stupidity. Why would anyone, especially me, swear such a promise?

But there still is one last thing my captors don't know, one last advantage I have left.

Despite all this, despite all the despair and pressure that threatens to crush me, I can't help but grin.

They still don't know who I really am. They may have been smart enough to take me as prisoner, but they don't have a clue who they really are dealing with. They still believe I'm number Five.

I just hope Marina and the others don't think I'm dead.

* * *

Hello everyone!

Hope you had a good time reading this chapter, as I tried to actually get some character and humour into it.

Thanks for your comments, it's been really interesting to know what you think.

As the majority of you asked me to write whose POV the chapter is written from, I will begin with that next chapter. I didn't put it in this one, though, as the whole point of the chapter was to not exactly know whose perspective it is until the very end :)

Sorry about that, Hope you don't have to re-read the whole thing now XD

Next chapter will be up at the latest on saturday, probably earlier.

Let me know what you think in the commentsection! Right now ;)

See you all next chapter, have a wonderful day, and above all, thanks for reading my story =)


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

_NOTE: The number below is the Loric number of the Garde who tells the chapter_

4

After a heavy rain there will be sun shine.

Or at least you'd think so. Right now, all that comes after the heavy rain is even more rain.

Welcome to Canada.

We impatiently wait for the border official to return our fake documents, but he keeps typing things into his computer. From time to time he glances back and forth between Sarah, Six, Nine and me, then at his computer screen, then at our passports.

There obviously is a problem. The official has been holding us up for more than half an hour and the other people in the waiting line behind us are starting to get angry and complain loudly.

I can't blame them. Anyone would be mad after waiting for so long in the pouring rain. We're all soaked to our skin and it just keeps getting worse. I wonder what genius didn't think of building a roof over the passport control. After all, bad weather is part of the agenda in this country.

Just about fifty yards away from where we're standing there's the entrance to a train station. Our train will leave shortly, one that will take us up higher to the north, but we're still stuck here with the official not letting us cross the border. If we want to take the train, we should convince him to let us pass.

I can almost sense the official's nervousness. He's a young man, about twenty-five years old. A short downy beard is growing on his chin and his border police hat tightly rolled over his forehead.

He seems stressed as hell. Small streams of sweat run down his face, even though it's really cold, and his eyes keep twitching from one side to the other. I sigh, trying to calm myself down. One could get an epileptic seizure just from looking at this guy.

I swallow my anger and glance over my shoulder for the millionth time this hour. My gaze wanders from side to side, scanning the area for anything dangerous. I'm ready to grab the others and bolt off at the smallest arouse of suspicion. The Mogs have had more than enough time to get here by now, and I don't want to get caught off guard once more.

But again, all I can see are the angry people in the line behind us and a group of kids on their way to the train station. Nothing has changed since I last checked.

"Dude, please," Eight says to the border official and I turn back around. "We're freezing over here. If there is something wrong with the documents, tell us. If not, just let us pass already."

The young man pretends he hasn't heard him and points at the Loric chests at our feet. Each of us has one of them; Sarah agreed on carrying Nine's, as he left it with us when he ran off to help Six.

"What's inside there?" The man says and I roll my eyes. This must be the tenth time he asks this question today.

"Once and for all," I say. "We told you already, these are the newest findings from a sunken ship near the Gulf of Mexico. The ship is believed to be from pirate times, but it's not sure, so we are taking it to the University of Toronto. Experts will hopefully be able to tell us more about the chests."

"And why would four young people like you be trusted with such an important assignment?" He asks.

"We are students of the famous Professor Oakeneck," Marina answers and I'm sure she just made up the name. The man raises an eyebrow, so I quickly say "Don't tell me you haven't heard of him," and give him an assessing look.

"Umm, of course I've heard of him. And you are what, archaeology students?" he replies after shortly hesitating and I nod.

"So we take these treasure chests directly to Toronto, where they will be examined by professional archaeologists," Marina says. The official nods and looks back at his computer screen. A moment passes, and I almost think he's going to give us the documents back, but then he begins to type into his computer again. I grit my teeth and try to contain myself.

What were we thinking when we had decided to simply cross the border like any other person? Did we actually believe we could just pass by, being the most wanted people in the whole country? It's just a matter of time before the US government and with it the Mogadorians finds out our position, if it hasn't happened already, and then we will be in some serious trouble.

No, we have to get to that train station right now, we've wasted more than enough time.

"Hey, dude, our train leaves in two minutes and if we miss it …" I start saying, but Eight takes a step forward and interrupts me.

"Okay, I've had enough, buddy. Usually, I'm a calm guy, but you've taken it too far. You got the choice: Either you let us pass right now or we contact the Professors at the University of Toronto and tell them we're being groundlessly held up for such a long time at the border. Maybe they'll have a word with your supervisors, who knows. Anyway, I'm sure we all prefer it the easy way, don't we?" Eight says with a disturbing, almost panicking undertone in his voice.

What he's doing is dangerous. Trying to pressure the official might not be the best idea, and the fact that we're bluffing makes it even more risky. But we're running out of time, and we have to act as long as we still can.

And then, out of the corner of my eyes, I see why Eight suddenly is so urging, and my heart makes a jump to my throat.

The Mogs are already here.

About twenty to the left, thirty to the right and who knows how many more behind us. My mind is racing. How can that be? When I looked, just a few seconds ago, not a single Mog was to be seen. And now there's a whole horde of them.

I instinctively grab Sarah's hand and pull her closer. She gives me a surprised glance and I mouth "Mogs." Her eyes widen and she gets alarmingly pale. I instantly regret telling her, as she looks as if she's going to just faint any second, but she has to be ready when things get fast

The Mogs position themselves in a big semicircle around us, blocking every escape route. More come from behind, some even from the waiting line behind us. I don't dare to move. They must have been there for a while now, and I am stunned at how we didn't even notice them all this time.

There's way too many to fight them all. We will be dead before we even get the chance to use our legacies. I close my eyes when I realize our only hope is to run past the border official and into the train station, the only direction that isn't blocked by the Mog soldiers.

And we'd better do it fast.

The people that are waiting in the queue behind us start noticing the Mogs. They probably don't look like aliens to them, rather like strangely dressed, hooded humans, and so the humans don't realize in what a dangerous situation they are. They have no clue what is about to go down any moment.

I bite my lip. Even though the Mogadorians are trying to keep themselves a secret from the public, they'll grab any opportunity to capture or kill us, even if that means they might compromise themselves. They are going to open fire on us, no matter what. They won't care if there are civilians in their way; they'll just shoot them down to get to us.

Which only convinces me more of us having to get out of here, far away from all those innocent people.

The Mogadorians have taken their positions, attaching those cruel-looking guns to their arms. A shocked gasp goes through the crowd and scattered cries ring in the rain, when the people notice the weapons.

My whole body tenses and I don't dare to exhale. The Mogs wait for something to start shooting, maybe for us to make a move, or an order from their commander.

I wonder how I could let it come to this. Why did we wait for the official to give us back our documents? Now I see it was obvious he was just buying time for the troops to come here. We saw the trap and yet we walked right into it.

And while I keep cursing our failure to act, the border official finally decides it's time to let us pass. He gives us a formal smile, apologizes for our inconveniences and hands us back our documents. Oh, how much I want to strangle this guy right now.

I don't know what else to do, so I reach forward to take the passports. As I put them into my bag, Eight silently clears his throat. I catch his eyes and he motions towards the train station. "Run," he mouths. I take a deep breath and nod.

And then we run.

I grab Sarah by the hand and levitate our two chests with my telekinesis. Before the Mogs can react, we're already past the border line and dash towards the entrance of the train station.

Then the Mogadorians open fire and the whole place erupts in chaos.

Surprised, terrified screams and shrill cries come from everywhere. The people run around aimlessly, trying to find cover from the shots or to get to the train station. Some just stand around, stunned and speechless, watching as the Mogs fire volley after volley. Explosions from where the bullets hit the ground light up the whole scene. The sound of the falling rain gets drowned in the deafening noise of the gunfire. And in the middle of all this, the four of us try no to get hit by the bullets.

I try to deflect them, but it's almost impossible to tell what's gunshots and what's just raindrops. We're halfway through our way to the station when it happens.

Just like Ella, Sarah gets shot.

She and I cry out in the same second.

Sarah is yanked away from me and falls to the ground. I stop dead in my tracks, turning around with so much force I am almost ripped from my feet.

Déjà vu, I bitterly think. While I try to spot Sarah in all this chaos, Ella's death replays in my mind. Her, getting shot over and over, the brave but useless attempts to get back up, then her, slumping down and not moving anymore.

The shock and sorrow from Ella's death hasn't left me since, and I can't afford to lose Sarah, too. I would never forgive myself.

Eight and Marina have reached the entrance of the train station and turn back to me. When they realize what happened, and that I'm about to go back for her, Eight shouts at me "Don't, John! That's suicide!"

But I don't care. If Sarah dies, my life would be over either way. How can he ask me to just give up on her? Of course, to them she doesn't matter much, they might even think she's like a millstone around our necks, but to me she's everything.

So I throw all caution to the wind and run back for Sarah. A bullet zips past my arm, another one slightly brushes my thigh. I shove a young woman aside to keep her from being shot. My despair grows the more time passes.

At the same moment I find Sarah - lying on the ground with a big bloody wound in her left calf – I get hit by a bullet. Right between the eyes.

"Oh," I say in surprise and drop to my knees.

The world around me seems to fade away into darkness and suddenly nothing really matters anymore. The only thing I hear is my own heartbeat getting slower and slower, as if saying its final goodbye.

This is it. One less Garde, and with me the hope of retaking Lorien is will be lost. The Mogadorians have won. Ella is dead, who knows what happened to Six and Nine, and now there's only Marina and Eight left. And eventually, they will be captured or killed, too.

And Sarah, Sarah will be taken prisoner again. I can almost see her, rotting in a dark, musty cell until she's old and frail. She'll never see her family again, nor her beloved hometown Paradise. Not even me.

I know I should feel sad, I _want_ to, but somehow, I don't. I can't. Not for Sarah, not for the remaining Garde, not even for failing Henri. All I do feel is an almighty calm overcoming me.

Finally I will rest. There's nothing I can do to change it anymore, in fact I can't do anything anymore, and this insight comes so naturally I can't help but accept it.

It's ridiculous, but I have never been as peaceful and relaxed as I am right now. I am ready to just lie down and wait for the inevitable.

Only the inevitable doesn't come.

A sudden heat coming from the red bracelet around my wrist makes me snap open my eyes. The bracelet starts expanding with a silent clatter, and from one moment to the other I have a six foot shield protecting me from incoming bullets.

Not that it would matter, anyway, as I am already deadly wounded. Why didn't the shield form when it was actually needed? It would have easily saved my life.

Which reminds me, shouldn't I be dead by now? Taking a gunshot in the head, especially one from a Mog weapon, definitely would kill you right away. So why am I still alive?

I take a deep breath. Slowly, a suspicion creeps in.

I raise my hand to where I got hit in the head. There's nothing there, no wound, not even a scratch.

And I feel like the most stupid idiot on earth.

It wasn't a bullet that hit me; it was just a big raindrop. Rain falls down on me and I think I'm going to die. I would shake my head about my own stupidity, but all the suspense and the tension from before come back to me at once. My heart shrivels when I think about how easily I abandoned all my friends.

I bite my tongue. Self-pity won't help now.

Desperately hoping it's not too late, I push myself to my feet and run towards Sarah, using the red shield to block any incoming gunshots. Hundreds of bullets crash against it, creating an uproarious noise.

Miraculously, Sarah didn't get hit by any more gunshots after the first one. The hole in her calf looks seriously bad, the bullet must have broken her shin bone, but it's nothing Marina won't be able to heal.

"Don't worry, Sarah, it'll be alright. Everything is going to be alright," I say in a calming voice, but I'm not sure she even heard me over the chaos around us.

I carefully pick her up, which is harder than it sounds, considering I have a six foot shield around me arm. Without wasting any more time, I turn on my heels and run back to the entrance of the train station, holding the shield behind me to protect us from the Mogs.

Marina and Eight are waiting for us at the entrance. The whole station is crowded with people who try to get away from here as fast as possible. A mass panic threatens to crush the people at the exits.

Once I am inside the station I remember our chests. I must have dropped them when Sarah was shot.

As if knowing what I'm thinking, Marina points at her feet, where all four Loric chests are piled up.

"We got them, when you ran back for Sarah," she says.

"Great," I answer, a bit out of breath. "Marina, do you think you can heal Sarah?"

She nods, but Eight holds her back.

"There's no time for that right now. We have to get to safety first," he says, and as much as I want Sarah's pain to stop, I know he's right. The Mog soldiers will be inside the train station any second now.

"Where do we go? We can't take the exit, it's way too crowded," I say.

Eight points to the only train in the station. "Its destination isn't shown on any of the schedules, but at the moment I don't really care. We just have to get out of here," he shouts.

I nod and we run over to it, Marina and Eight carrying the chests, me carrying Sarah. We jump through the doors, just as they close and the train begins to roll out the back of the station.

For a moment, we stand still, catching our breaths, still not believing we all made it out alive. The train picks up speed and soon we leave the station behind.

I sigh and look around. Surprisingly enough, there are only two more people in our car. I would have expected the train to be stuffed to the gills with refugees from the gunfight, but apparently, almost all of them rather ran for the exit than for the train.

We pick a seat row at the back of the car, and I carefully lay Sarah across it. She groans in pain when Marina puts her hands on her calf. In a matter of seconds, the wound in her leg is healed.

Sarah looks at Marina with a relieved smile. "Thanks," she says, then turns to me. "And thank you, too, my saviour." She gives me a long kiss on the cheek and I close my eyes. I take in the smell of her beautiful hair, and imagine what it would be like if I hadn't been able to save her. What it would be like to never look into her bright, blue eyes, to never hear her voice again.

I shake my head and sit down next to her. It's impossible to think of a life without her.

For a while I stare out the window, holding Sarah's hands in mine.

It still is hard to believe how we all got out of this unharmed. Maybe there is hope for the Loric, after all. We will find out where Six and Nine are, and we'll rescue them, come what may.

I can't help but smile to myself when I remember what Six had said when the Mogadorians attacked us in the school back in Paradise. There is no getting away from the Mogadorians once they find you. You can fight them, you can try running, but you will never escape. Well, here we are, sitting on the train to our safety, every mile getting us farther away from the Mogs.

Sarah leans her head against my shoulder and I wrap my arms around her. With a sigh I lean back in my seat and listen to her steady breath. The calmness from earlier, when I thought I was going to die, starts to return to me.

And then a loudspeaker announcement rings through the train, and changes everything. My brain feels as if it's frozen from all the chills running through my body. All the relief and peacefulness are suddenly blown away, and the thrill of the fight kicks back in, when a deep Mogadorian voice sounds through the loudspeakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dear extraterrestrials, we apologize for your inconveniences - hopefully you can forgive us for trying to shoot you - and we wish you a comfortable ride. Next Stop is hell."

* * *

Hey everybody,

I am really, really sorry for taking so long to update this, but the past week has been quite exhausting and finding time to write isn't always that easy.

Nonetheless, I want to thank you for your countless reviews, they're really keeping my spirits up =)

So, please let me know what you think, that's what motivates me to write those chapters ;)

I hope to update more often in the next week, as I'll have a lot more time now, so make sure to stay tuned.

Until then, thanks a whole damn lot for reading my story :)


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

10

I shouldn't be alive.

No one ever admits that, but deep inside I know that's the truth. I shouldn't be here. Not me.

You might think me being still alive is a miracle. And what else could it be? After all, I seem to survive every single catastrophe I get in. Every god damn disaster that happens, I'm always the one to get out of it with my life.

But at what cost? What is the price of one life for all those who died to save me?

Yeah, I bitterly think. It must be a miracle. A miracle that keeps me safe, but harms everyone around me. Must have been a miracle that killed my parents, uncle Pit, the other Elders, Six, Nine, Crayton, and so many more.

Must be a miracle, that fate always seems to spare my life. It's so damn wonderful to always be the only survivor. To always be everybody's last hope. To have everyone else die, just so you have a chance to live on, isn't that the greatest thing one could ask for in the whole universe?

The cruelty of having to watch all your loved ones die makes it hard to appreciate this kind of _gift_. It's hard to not be heartless and cold when more and more people you care for die, with you being unable to help them. Or actually, what makes it even worse, being able to help them, but not having the permission to. Having sworn an oath that tells me to just abandon them to their fate.

Because that's the worst feeling in the world, being helplessly bound to a magical promise you made back when you were a little kid. It rips you apart and shreds you into little pieces until all you want to do is crawl into a little hole and cry all day.

And here I sit, in my dirty, dark prison cell, more than a mile under the surface, and cry.

So many people died for me. Good people. Better than I will ever be. So many lives sacrificed, just to save mine. What can I ever do to make it up to them?

No, this is not a miracle. This is a god damn curse. The greatest thing in the whole universe? Don't make me laugh.

The greatest thing in the universe would be to turn back time, but even for me, that's impossible. Still, if I had a wish, just one wish, I would go back to the day I was born, the day the Mogs first came.

Uncle Pit used to tell me this story often when I was a kid. The story about the invasion of my home planet.

That disastrous day, when the Mogs had wiped out and entire civilization, had been a holy day, a day of joy and celebration. No one had expected them to attack, and when their ships had suddenly appeared in the sky, we were completely taken by surprise.

After my people realized what was going on, they fought back heroically, but we didn't stand a chance. We were too unprepared. In the end, when it was clear that everything was lost, they tried to save ten of us.

Us… Oh, how I miss the others. Ten in the beginning, and now how many of us are left? What happened to the former strength and pride of my people?

I sob and hold my head. Sometimes, it's all just too much. I take a deep breath to stop the weeping, and get lost in my thoughts again.

I was a special child when I was small, otherwise I wouldn't be alive now. The moment I was born, they knew I was different. And when our defences were shoved away on that unfortunate day and my people was about to give up all hope, uncle Pit came out of nowhere and offered the ten of us a ticket to freedom, a chance to survive. He offered us to be taken to the closest habitable planet in a spaceship.

The next part always triggers slumbering emotions deep inside my soul. Homesickness, long forgotten sorrows, but most of all the giant hole growing up without parents left in my heart.

At first, my parents didn't want to give me away. I had only been born, and now I would be ripped away from them again? The cruelty of the situation still overwhelms me years later.

But when time got short and the Mogs were only a few miles away, my parents understood that the only way for me to survive was to come with uncle Pit. After a long hesitation, they gave in and let me go.

It's weird, but even though I was only a couple of hours old, I think I actually do remember bits this last scene with my parents. Them, saying good bye, kissing my forehead and holding me in their arms. My mother's long, brown hair, stroking my cheeks. My father's deep, pleasant voice, talking to the ship's pilot.

Then, so uncle Pit had told me, the ship took off, just in time to see the Mogs march through our last defence lines. I don't know how our little spaceship actually made it through the Mog's blockade without being blown to pieces by their fleet, but somehow we escaped.

Ten of us, plus the pilot and uncle Pit. Not much more than a spark of hope in an ocean of despair.

But even the smallest spark can start a fire.

Or at least, that's what uncle Pit would always tell me.

I think, of all the people I've lost, I miss him the most, beside number Five, of course.

Pit's calm nature, his humorous way of talking, and the intelligent, deep look in his eyes. And now, I don't even know where he is, or if he's even still alive.

The last time I saw him comes to my mind.

'There will come a time, when it all depends on you, my child,' uncle Pit had said, just before leaving me for ever. 'You, my child, will be the one to make the choice. Your decision will determine this war, one way or another.'

I had asked him what that meant, but he had remained mysteriously silent about it. And since this was our final goodbye, I didn't want to upset him by digging deeper.

'But be careful, my child,' he had continued after a while. 'Don't let it go to you head. Be brave, be strong, but don't get too self-confident and arrogant. Don't mourn over the past and keep your head up. Use your gifts only when the time is right and the signs have appeared. Your future won't be easy, oh no, anything but that. Your path has many windings, and even I can't tell for sure where you will end up. But I know you, I believe in you, and I know you can make it. I wouldn't want anyone else in the whole world to do the job rather than you, child.'

I had been only six years old back then, just tall enough to tug at his sleeves.

'But uncle Pit, I don't know if I can do this, all alone. Can't I at least tell Crayton?' I had asked, and he had squatted and looked me right in the eye for a long time, his face as serious as never before.

'Listen, you are the last one to hold this secret. If you can't succeed, no one can. My child, you mustn't tell anyone, you hear me? No one must know before the time has come,' he had said in such an urging voice I had to give in. I could tell it was really important to him, even though I didn't really understand why.

'You have to promise, okay? Say it, say that you will keep it a secret until the time is right!' He had demanded, and, because this was the last time I would ever see him, I had nodded and repeated 'I swear it, I will keep it a secret until the time is right.'

A look of relief had crossed his serious face, and he had pulled me in for one last hug.

Then, with no further words, he had turned around, and without looking back, he had walked away into the distance until I couldn't see him anymore.

And since then, the burden is mine and mine alone to carry.

.

.

I'm waking up to ash and dust and loud, alarmed shouts. It's the first thing I hear in days.

I raise my head, waiting for any more noise. What could have caused those shouts? News about the others, maybe?

A few seconds pass without anything else ringing through to my cell, so I lie down again. Guess I only imagined it.

I sigh and close my eyes. Not that it would matter if they're open or not, anyway. The darkness of the prison cell is so complete and flawless, I can't see a thing. A whole army of Mogs could be inside this room right now and I wouldn't even notice.

I turn from lying on my back to my belly. How long have I been down here? Must have been at least a two days, probably more, even though I can't tell for sure.

One question has been keeping me busy all this time: What happened to the others after I was captured? Did they manage to escape, or did they get caught, too? Are they maybe even in the same prison, maybe even in one of the cells next door?

For all I can tell, they could even be in this very cell, and I wouldn't know. This darkness really starts creeping me out.

I wonder if you can forget what light looks like, if you don't see any for a very long time.

And then I hear another shout, much closer this time. I jump to my feet with a jolt and listen for any more screams, but again, there's nothing. I sniff and scratch the back of my head.

Could it be that I'm so desperate for something to happen that I 'm hearing voices? Am I going crazy? Have I been down here for so long that I am losing my marbles?

I wrap my arms around my chest and try to convince myself I'm not, when a sudden loud rumble makes me flinch.

This time I'm sure I didn't imagine it. It was real. I press my lips together, holding my breath to hear .

There are more shouts, more of that rumbling noise, a man cries out a few times, then silence again.

My heart races and my arms are shaking from excitement. Finally something is happening! I have to know what's going on out there.

I walk into the darkness, in the direction where I hope the door is. Maybe the sounds will be clearer from there. I keep my hands stretched out in front of me, so that I don't…

Wall!

I ram directly against it and tumble a few feet backwards. Dazedly I rub my head, then I reach out for the wall again and feel my way along it until I reach a corner. No door yet.

I slowly continue walking along the wall for a while. The cell is much bigger than I thought.

Another rumbling noise, even closer than before, makes me prick up my ears.

I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say it almost sounds like the echoes of people being thrown against walls. I frown in confusion. What the hell could be possibly going on out there?

Then, in the silence that follows once again, I can make out a single persons footsteps echoing through the corridor in front of my cell, and my heart makes a jump. Someone is coming this way!

"What the hell…" I hear one of the 'alpha squad' soldiers, who are apparently still guarding my cell, say. Chairs are being pushed back and I hear all five of them stand up. The clicking of machineguns being brought to positions silently rings through the door.

"Listen, kiddo, I have no idea how you got down here or what you want, but I suggest you go back to where you came from, if you don't want a bullet up your ass," their leader, the top-wanted criminal, says with a malicious undertone.

Kiddo? I gasp. What is a kid doing in a top-secret US military base? And if the soldiers don't know him, then who on earth is he?

"Listen, tough guy," a young male voice answers from across the corridor. "I suggest you open that door right now, if you don't want your head rammed into that wall."

I stop moving in bafflement. The guards laugh, but I hardly notice.

The temperature feels like it has gone up by fifty degrees, and hot butterflies bustle in my stomach. I… I think…I know that voice. My mind rakes its time to process this new change of fate, but a small hope forms in my heart.

Can it be? Is it possible that _he_ survived?

The leader of the 'alpha squad' rips me out of my thoughts.

"I'm warning ya," he says to the new guy, way more aggressively now. "One more step and I shoot."

There's a short pause, in which the person he's talking to seems to consider that threat, then I hear another footstep from across the corridor.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the criminal guy sighs and then fires a gunshot.

I hold my breath, waiting for the sound of the bullet's impact, or any sign that other person got hit, but all I hear is my own heart, beating faster than a drum.

"What on earth…" Another one of the guards begins, but he doesn't finish the sentence. The rest it is drowned in a scream.

Something – or rather someone, by the sound of it –crashes into the door and I jump backwards in surprise. From the other side of the door, one of the guards groans, then I can hear my other four captors break out in shocked murmurs.

"Boy, I don't know how you did that, but you're going to pay for it," the 'alpha squad' leader says, and I can tell he's not so sure of himself anymore.

"Shoot that greenhorn!" He shouts nonetheless and then they all start firing at that one person.

I press my hands on my ears, trying to shut off the noise of the gunfire. After all this time in complete silence, the loud gunshots feel like knives stabbing into my skull.

I take a few steps forward and finally find the circular door. Because I don't know what else to do, I start hammering against it with my fists, but it is drowned in the noise of the gunshots. I've never felt so useless in my whole life. Out there someone is fighting for me, once again risking his life for mine. Or at least that's what I think.

'Open the door,' the person had said, which technically puts him on my side. Anyone who gets me out of this dirt hole is my friend.

Or does he just want the door open to kill me?

I shake my head. I'm getting too paranoid. No one would go this far down into a secret, hidden military base just to kill me. If they had wanted to, they could have just slit my throat when I was asleep or something. They wouldn't need somebody to rambo his way through that maze, just to get me out of the picture.

No, whoever the 'alpha squad' is shooting at right now must be here to bust me out.

I jump back in shock when another one of the guards gets slammed against the door.

My mind is racing in euphoria. Someone must have fought his way through the whole base, just to get me to me. And that someone is slamming my last captors against the cell's door, then he's going to get me out of here.

And that someone doesn't seem to give a damn about the remaining three guards firing everything they've got at him. I almost can't contain my excitement.

Two more bodies fly against the door, each leaving behind a big dent. Four down, one to go, I cheer in my head.

And that one guy seems to be out of ammo. I can hear the silent clicking sound that signalizes he has fired everything he had. A few seconds of silence pass.

"So, the choice is still yours," the guy from across the corridor yells with a booming voice. "Open that god damn door, or your head really will end up in that wall over there."

The last guard, I guess it's the leader, seems to be really intimidated, as he immediately stands up, and I can hear him type something into the keyboard. It takes him several tries, probably because he's trembling so badly.

But then, finally, the iron door's heavy mechanisms rumble, and inch for inch it slowly opens up.

I can not believe this is actually happening. I am really getting out of here. I pinch myself in the arm to make sure I'm not just dreaming all of it.

The glaring neon light stings into my eyes when I look outside the cell.

I blink fiercely. After all this time in the dark, I need a few seconds to get used to the sudden brightness. And when I do, it's just in time to see the leader of the 'alpha squad' sail through the air in a high arc and hit the opposite wall headfirst.

"He provoked me," the guy that saved me says to my left and shrugs.

I take a deep breath, and with a big grin I turn around to the boy I thought I would never see again.

He trots towards me, calm and cool as always. Whistling a silent tune, he takes his time coming over, but he never takes his eyes off me.

Words can't express how much I've missed him in the past months. There's not a place I don't think about him, not a time my mind isn't occupied by his heroic sacrifices. There's not a day that passes without me suffering from my infinite guilt towards him.

The endless happiness that flows through me now that I know he's alive and well, is so overwhelming I fear I'm going to faint.

And then he finally reaches me and I almost explode from excitement and emotions when he stops, just a few feet in front of me.

"Hi, Ten," Number Five says and I throw my arms around him.

* * *

Heeeey everybody,

Wow, 10 chapters, that's a whole lot. Especially for someone like me. I usually can't force myself to finish anything I start with, but this project really is fun for me.

And I hope it is also fun to you guys out there, as that's the main reason I'm writing this stuff after all.

So, I've been working all day on this chapter, and I'm pretty proud to actually release two full chapters in two days in a row ;)

But enough about me, (derp), let's not forget you, the readers. Without you guys none of this would be here, and never forget that. Your support is what keeps the story running, (and I like the story running), so please, please, please, never stop supporting me, I really need it.

At this point, I'd like to thank all of you for accompaning me on our way to August 2013, when the 4th book will be released. Whether you have been here from the very beginning or just tuned in, thank you so much for staying with me. I can't stress enough how important your feedback is for me.

Hm, I feel like I'm repeating myself, (derp again).

As for the content of this chapter, I know some things may not make sense right now, but be patient, hopefully all the confusion will go away with time.

So, that's all for now, I hope you liked my story so far and make sure to keep on checking back for more updates.

See you next chapter, until then, have a wonderful day, and thank you all so damn much for reading my story :)


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

8

Let me give you an advice.

Next time before you board a train, make sure it's the right one.

Well, assume you are in a very big hurry, let's say because you're late for an important meeting, or you need to get home for your favourite TV show really fast.

Or maybe there's just a horde of bloodthirsty aliens chasing you, trying to shoot your damn head off.

Whatever of these situations is the case, let's just say you will be really stressed.

Now, you're at a train station and one of the trains is just about to leave. You're not sure it's the right one, the one you need, but the doors will close any second and you know you can't wait for the next one. So, what do you do?

You may think it doesn't matter what train you take, you might think you can just get off at the next stop, if it's the wrong one, or you may just not think at all. But whatever you do, take a moment to consider what the risks are _before_ you board the train. You might find yourself in an even worse position than before.

Take Marina, John, Sarah and me, for example.

A few moments ago, when we were attacked by a bunch of aliens and managed to flee into that train station at the Canadian border by the skin of our teeth, we didn't stop. We didn't hesitate and we didn't take a moment to consider the obviously enormous risks we took by entering the only train in there. Well, to be honest, there wasn't much time for it. Two of us had almost died, the aliens were still shooting at us, the whole place shook from explosions and smoke and rain made it impossible to see how long it would take our enemies to follow us. But now I wish we hadn't made that mistake.

Making mistakes is human, I know.

Bad thing we're not human at all, or at least the majority of us isn't. Marina, John and I are supposed to be smarter, quicker and overall just way more cautious. It's exactly these mistakes that should differ us from the earthlings. We shouldn't be senselessly running around from one disaster to the next, as we have been for the past week.

We should know better than that.

The Mogadorian loudspeaker announcement has convinced me of the opposite, though. We obviously don't know better than anything.

By no means did we escape the Mogs, we just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Trying to get out of this mess, all we managed to do was to bury ourselves deeper in it. The situation just keeps getting worse and worse.

Because up until now, the biggest group of Mogs that has ever been thrown at us was never more than sixty or seventy. This time, though, it's not just a few Mogadorian soldiers attacking.

It must be an entire army.

I stand up from my seat and gulp. Hundreds of heavy footsteps echo from the walls, literally making the whole train shake. Telling by the sound of it, they can't be more than four wagons away, probably less. The noise of their metal boots stomping on the floor as they march in step is as precise as a metronome, getting louder the closer they come.

Like a slow, steady clock, counting down to our final fate.

Beside me, Marina lets out a sudden, loud whimper and immediately presses her hands on her mouth, as if to prevent any more sounds to escape it. Compared to the rest of us, she had a rather sheltered life until the point we met up. She's not used to situations like these. To be honest, she looks like she's about to faint any second, and the more she tries to hide the fact that she's scared as hell, the more obvious it becomes.

I think about turning around to her, looking her deep in the eyes, maybe hugging her. I want to comfort her, to tell her everything's alright even though nothing is alright. I want to let her know she's not alone. That we will always be there for her.

That _I_ will always be there for her. That I do remember that moment in the US military base a couple of days ago, every single part of it. And that most of all, I remember the kiss.

I'm not sure why I don't, though. I'm not sure why I just keep looking straight forward, pretending I don't see the pleading looks she gives me, that I don't notice that special tone in her voice every time she talks to me, that excited smile when I'm around. I'm not sure why I'm acting like a stupid idiot all this time.

Because, like the stupid idiot I am, instead of sharing my thoughts with her, I just step forward, away from her, and ignore the frustrated sinking of her shoulders.

Disappointment. Mistakes. Shame. What's next?

I bite my lip and look out the window. The storm clouds have darkened the sky outside, and all that is visible from the landscape are dark meadows, blurred by our enormous speed.

It's far too late to get off the train now; we're already going more than 180 miles per hour. Neither can I teleport us out, it would definitely kill us at this speed. As a matter of fact, we have no other choice but to finally stand our ground fight.

Despite all my hate and contempt, I've got to hand it to the Mogs, their strategists are nothing but brilliant. They understood that we only have a chance, when all the remaining Garde fight together. Each of us is irreplaceable. Each of us has to play his or her own part to defeat the enemy, there's no other way. Without the others we may still be a threat, but that's nothing compared to our combined power.

So, instead of directly facing us all together, they split us apart first. They tracked us down and cut our group into pieces, just when we were so close to reuniting every living Garde.

I exhale fiercely and vigorously walk down to the middle of our train wagon to get a better overview. Maybe I can find something that will help us fight the Mogs.

The walls are probably matt white usually, but now they seem rather grey, with the rain and the clouds blocking most of the sunlight, making the late afternoon appear like the middle of the night.

We're in the last car of the train, with nowhere to fall back to. At the one end of the car, John and Sarah are standing side by side. They have their backs turned to me, watching the door to the next wagon, from where the noises of the approaching Mog horde are getting louder and louder.

"We could try blocking the door somehow," I shout over the sound of the Mog army. John thinks about it for a moment, then nods.

"I'm on it," he shouts back.

The door itself looks heavy and solid enough to withstand the Mogs for a while, as long as they don't decide to just blast it away. The only problem is there is nothing around we could use to block it with.

"Maybe you can use the seats," Sarah suggests. John shrugs and with a loud crack he rips out an entire seat row from the ground with his telekinesis. He levitates it over to the door and places it so that the door can't be opened.

"That should work," he says, and while he proceeds to rip out more seats, I turn back around to look for more things that could be useful.

What draws my attention is what's at the other end of the car. I haven't noticed ventilation shaft before, just a few feet away from it there are the two other passengers sitting next to each other. Well, it's not exactly an emergency exit, but at least it leads out of the train.

I smirk, even though I don't feel like smirking at all. It's a crazy thought, but maybe all hope is not lost yet. The smirk is far too small to crawl through, not even big enough to stick my head, but if we could somehow enlarge it…

Marina has followed me to the middle of the wagon and stands next to me.

"Got something?" she asks and I shrug.

"Maybe," I say without looking at her. I'm still thinking about how to make the ventilation hole bigger. There might be something useful in one of our Loric chests.

"I don't know, maybe we could try the emergency break," Marina suggests and hesitatingly points at a small red device at the wall. Dumbfounded, I stare at it for a second, wondering how the hell I didn't think of that before.

"Well, it's worth the try," I say after a while and reach out for the small lever.

"Hold on to something!" I yell over my shoulder, then press it

I duck my head and close my eyes, expecting the train to stop with a jerk.

The seconds pass and nothing happens. I slowly open one eye, then the other. I let go of the lever and turn back around to Marina.

"Nothing," I say and sigh. Maybe the hope that the emergency stop would actually work had really been there for a few seconds, but, as really often lately, we're not that fortunate. The train keeps driving at the same speed as before.

The only thing that I caused by pressing that lever is a malicious laughter, coming out of the loudspeakers.

"Exactly how dumb do you think we are?" the deep Mog voice roars through the train. "You puny little creatures are so damn ridiculous. If our big leader could see you pathetic scum right now, there would be no stopping him from crushing you into pieces."

Hundreds of scornful voices from the Mog army join the announcer in laughing at us, making me flinch. I blush and fiercely walk back to John and Sarah keeping my head low. Marina follows right behind me, even more ashamed than me.

The worst thing is the Mog announcer is right. We did play this whole thing terribly bad.

Once we got separated by the Mogs, it was way too easy for them to trap us. We made so many mistakes at so many occasions, all they had to do was jump at the opportunities and strike.

And now, they finally have us cornered up in this damn train, and we're out of options. All I can do is curse our recklessness. It makes me sick how careless we've acted, considering what's at stake. If our Cêpans were still alive, they'd smack us in the face.

I clench my fists so hard I can feel my fingernails cut into my skin. What were we thinking? The people of Lorien put all their trust into us, and all we do is screw everything up. We got a second chance, and what did we make out of it?

We're just not up to our enemies, even though we should be. Who else if not us?

But the Mogs literally anticipated each and every one of our moves, as if our plans were as transparent as glass. It began in that park, after we hadn't heard of them in a while. They had known exactly where and when to ambush us, as if they had kept track of us all this time. I don't know why they let the rest of us go back then, I'm sure they could have just come with another ingenious plan to get us all at once, but apparently they settled with just capturing Six and Nine.

And… And killing Ella.

The anger about her death rises inside me again. For Marina's sake, I have tried to hold it back until now. She still believes Ella might be alive, somewhere out there, and I didn't want to destroy her hopes. But keeping all my emotions locked away inside is heavily wearing me down. It's just too much to hide it all.

Whatever we do, the Mogs are always a step ahead. It's like they know exactly what we are going to do before we even know it ourselves. And now there's no way out, it's either fight or get killed.

I grit my teeth and think about what life was like less than a week ago. Back when I was Vishnu, and the only people I ever saw were at the occasional visits by General Grahish Sharma and his soldiers. It was a peaceful way of life, with hardly any worries or duties. In all the time I was all alone I almost forgot what I'm actually here for - here, on earth.

I am here to prepare, to survive, to defend myself and the other Garde for as long as it takes. I… _We_ are here to get ready to show the Mogadorians the Loric won't be defeated so easily.

And it's about time we start striking back.

The sudden determination I have at these thoughts pumps new power through my body. I stand next to John, getting into a fighting position. All muscles tensed, we wait for the Mog army to enter through the door. It's hard to keep my knees from shaking, as the Mogadorians come closer and closer. I can already hear the clicking of hundreds of guns, as they prepare to blast anything in this wagon to pieces.

They can't be far away now.

But the four of us against a whole army? I've never even seen this many of them at one place. Marina told me how Six battled against an entire horde of Mogs at the lake near Santa Teresa, and that she defeated them all by herself. Well, Six isn't here right now, and no one of us has much experience in fighting Mogs.

And Four of us, that's counting in Sarah, who basically won't be of any help at all. The best thing she can do is not stand in our way. I wouldn't want any civilians to be hit, I bitterly think.

As if on cue, Marina silently asks "What should we do about those two?"

With a jittery finger she points at the two other passengers in the car. The hoarse undertone in her shaky voice doesn't surprise me; I'm not feel any better myself. Marina has never been good at hiding her feelings, and right now, it's like she's about to explode from fear. Even though I'm terrified to the bones, too, I lay my hand on her shoulder as confidently as I can. She tenses at first, but I can tell it calms her down in a way. And having her so close kind of calms me down a bit, too.

It's not enough to stop my hands from uncontrollably trembling with fear, though.

I clear my throat and force myself to focus. There are things that are more important right now.

I glance at where Marina is pointing - the two other passengers in the back of the car - and raise an eyebrow.

It's a girl and a boy, both about two or three years older than me. Even though I don't recognize them, I get the feeling that I've seen them somewhere before.

When I look at them, the guy shyly turns away, but the girl holds my gaze. She has shoulder-length, black hair and a round, almost circular face. The most remarkable thing about her, though, are her big, round eyes. They seem a bit too large for her face, but they make her appear younger than she actually is.

As we stare at each other for a few moments, a strange feeling inside me stirs. Looking into those deep, red-bluish eyes, I feel some sort of odd pull, like an invisible force urging me towards her. Suddenly, it's like all my strength is drained out of me and my whole body goes numb.

My hand powerlessly slips away from Marina's shoulder, and icy shills run down my spine.

I try to look away, but I somehow can't get myself to.

What the hell is going on?

I take a deep breath, but the overcoming need to come closer to the mysterious girl doesn't go away, it just grows bigger and heavier. As if pulled by an invisible rope, my body begins to lean forward towards her, and I don't know how long I can hold myself back. I don't even know if I want to hold myself back.

I force myself to concentrate, but the more I try, the more I feel myself overwhelmed by the girl's sparkling eyes.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out of my dry throat. My vision is blurring, making everything but the girl's shimmering eyes seem far away and unimportant.

Now that I think about it, why should I actually try resisting the overcoming urge to come forward? I mean, the situation can't get much worse right now.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Marina uncomfortably shift her weight and frown at me. She says something in a worried tone, but I can't understand exactly what. It doesn't matter anyway.

One after the other, I can feel my thoughts turn silent and fade away, until there's just one left: the one that's telling me to get closer to the two strangers.

I take an uncertain step forward without even noticing. I've never seen eyes like that, so pure and clear, I could spend hours just looking into them. Their colour is fascinating; not exactly blue, I'd say, no, they're rather some sort of purple…

I suddenly lose my balance when the train makes a sharp bend to the right. Dazed and distracted as I am, still lost in the girl's eyes, I don't realize what's going on. I don't manage to catch myself and bump my head against the wall, which makes me lose eye contact with the girl and rips me out of this trancelike state.

I blink a few times in confusion about what just happened. I can still feel the girl's eyes on me, the grip around my mind. It feels like I just woke up from a strange dream, and now I'm trying to figure out what it was about. I lean against the wall, my head feeling like it's stuffed with cotton.

"They're Mogs," Sarah suddenly whispers and brings me back to reality. I stare at her for a second, my mind trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Sure, Sarah? They don't look much like Mogs," John whispers back, as I regain my balance. Marina gives me a concerned glance, but I just shrug and smile, trying not to show how messed up I'm feeling right now. She scowls, then turns back to the two strangers. The girl is still watching at me, but I don't make the mistake of looking her in the eyes again.

Mogs, that must be it. Sarah is right.

The first thing my Cêpan Reynolds taught me about our enemies was to never look them straight in the eyes. Guess now I know why.

The thing is Reynolds always told me it would be a horrible experience, that I'd have visions of my biggest nightmares if I'd ever make that mistake.

Well, I'm still not sure about what just happened, but it definitely wasn't a nightmarish vision; that's clear. In fact, it actually was quite calming and pleasant, and that's exactly what scares me the most.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sarah says to John. "I spent enough time in that stinky Mog prison know what they look like. And those two definitely are Mogadorians."

"Yeah, I think so, too. But these two are different than any Mog I've seen before," I agree.

"Okay, if those are Mogs, why didn't they attack us yet? They could have just took us when we entered the train, or any time after us, but they're just sitting there without really doing anything," John points out, still not convinced.

"It could be another part of their strategy," I say. "Maybe they're just here to distract us from the real threat."

"In that case, we shouldn't let them distract us," Sarah urges. "The Mog army will be here any moment. Get your things together, guys, there will be hundreds of Mogs here in a couple of seconds, two more won't really matter."

I have to admit she's right, even though I can't shake the feeling that those two here are not who we assume they are. Or at least not the girl.

I glance at her for one last time, but she isn't looking at us anymore. Her head is tilted towards the window as she watches the dark landscape pass by, not paying us any attention.

The boy sitting next to her takes out a tiny white cell phone from his pocket and starts typing on its little keyboard. Unlike the girl beside him, he actually has some resemblances with the Mogs I know. His face has the same sharkish features, the same, pale skintone. The cell phone's display enlightens his head for a second, some of the tattoos that cover every Mog soldier's skull are visible through his short, black hair.

A sudden sound, coming from the door to the next wagon behind us, startles me. Something crashes against the door, and I realize the Mogs are here.

"It's blocked," a Mog yells, and the rest of the army responds in a chaos of uproar, screams and shouts. The noise of the Mog army, their footsteps, the clicking of their guns and their rattling respiration, it all arrives at its maximum in an ultimate crescendo.

My heartbeat ticks along to this final clock, so loud and fast, it feels like my chest will be ripped apart any second.

And just as the whole thing reaches its highlight, all the noise suddenly stops, as if it was sealed off, when the last announcement comes out of the loudspeakers. All of a sudden the train is so silent that I can even hear the rain drumming against the windows.

"Well, well, well, would you look at that. The pathetic, little creatures have started to show some initiative, isn't that cute. Got bad news for you kids, it's way too late for that. Nothing can stop us, so stop wasting our time and just give up already. Because you're nothing more than that: a waste of time. Only a shadow of the strength and pride Lorien once had.

So, for the sake of your ancestors, I hope you put up a good fight. Well, on second thought, that would be too much to ask. For the sake of your ancestors, try to die without peeing yourselves," the announcer says and snickers.

The entire train is still completely silent, no one makes a sound. I don't dare to exhale. Maybe I can hold up time just like I'm holding up my breath. Not very likely, but if you have a better idea, feel free to tell me.

Through the big iron door and the seats that are supposed to block it, I can hear a commander bark orders in the cruel Mogadorian language.

Then everything turns back silent again. The only sound I hear is my heart pumping faster and louder than ever.

The Mogs are waiting in the next wagon, ready to shred us to into mincemeat. And all that separates us from them is this mingy iron door.

I'm about to turn around to be ready when our enemies break through it, just as the stranger girl suddenly stands up from her seat.

"It's now or never," she says to the guy, who nods and types something into his phone. The girl quickly glances at us, then nods at her companion and takes a few steps backwards, ducking behind a seat row ten yards away from the back wall of the wagon.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to figure out what she's hiding from, when I suddenly remember our theory about them being here just to distract us. Well, if that's their plan, it's definitely working.

But what if that's not quite it. I mean, what if their real purpose is not to just keep us busy? More than just sitting around and observing us? What if their true role is to actually initiate the assault like some sort of vanguard, to weaken us before the big army takes us down?

Whatever case, it's best to take them out right now, instead of waiting for them to make a move first.

Just as I come to this conclusion, the guy reaches into his coat pocket and takes out a small, round object. A tiny, red lamp is blinking at its side. That suspiciously looks like…

"A bomb," Sarah speaks out my thoughts and I awaken from my rigidity.

At this point, I don't even want to mention the fact that we had the chance to deal with those two all this time but failed to take it. It was so ridiculously predictable that we would got caught in the horns of a dilemma again, I don't know if I should laugh hysterically or just cry.

Both, probably, but there's no time for that right now. In a couple of moments, we will be toast if we don't do something soon.

Hundreds of bloodthirsty Mogs, waiting to shoot us to pieces from the one side. Ever since the invasion of Lorien, they've been wanting nothing more than to kill us, and now that they're almost at their goal, they sure as hell won't let a couple of train seats hold them up. I can almost picture them, one Mog soldier next to the other, their ugly faces screwed up into grotesque grimaces when they realize they are so close to finally hunting down their long awaited prey. They must be fighting over who will get to enter our car first, who will get to shoot the first bullet, who will get to _kill_ first. The thought of having us trapped here must make their mouth water.

And from the other side, there's a Mog with a bomb, about to blow himself and the whole wagon – which unfortunately includes us, too - into bits. He squeezes the small, round bomb in his hand, which immediately begins to glow. The surface becoming transparent, showing some sort of countdown in the centre of the small device. 10, 9, 8, 7…

Marina takes my hand and squeezes it, and I hardly even notice. I'm too shocked and stunned by the hopelessness of the situation to react to anything, and I can feel the others are going through the same.

And what would it matter, anyway. Whatever we do, it wouldn't change a thing about the god damn situation we got ourselves into. It wouldn't change a thing about the fact that there is a gigantic horde of Mogs right outside that door. And it wouldn't change a thing about the bomb in this very wagon.

All our gifts from the Loric, all the abilities and skills we obtained over the years, it's all for nothing. They can't change the fact that in the end, no matter how hard and brave we fight, we will be desperately outnumbered and get overrun.

Because, eventually, one day, even hope has to die. And we, the last free Garde, will be buried and forgotten with it.

The last three seconds of the bomb's countdown run out and I hold my breath, preparing to get blasted away in the explosion.

This is how we die, in a train on a planet so far away from home.

2… 1…

"NOW!" The girl cowering behind the seats shouts at the guy, who reaches out and throws the bomb.

This is it. Game over. Goodbye world.

I watch as the small, round device flies in a wide arch across the wagon, as if it moved in slow motion, watch as the countdown hits zero and the bomb turns red, right before it's about to explode.

And then I gulp so hard it hurts deep inside my throat.

Because I can't believe my eyes. What I'm seeing just doesn't make sense.

Because the guy didn't throw the bomb at us.

He threw the small, red thing at the back wall of the train car.

In a daze I watch as it erupts in an enormous, flaming explosion and with a deafening bang it rips a hole into the train's wall, just big enough for a person to escape through.

* * *

Hey everybody!

As you may have noticed, I haven't updated in quite a while, and I think I owe you all an apology for that. I have absolutely no idea what took me so damn long to finish this chapter, probably my own laziness, which I am really sorry for.

I honestly hate to keep you people waiting, so sorry, sorry and sorry for that.

But it's not always easy to find inspiration to just write a whole chapter, and as most of you are writers yourselves, I'm sure you can relate.

So, I hope you guys were at least satisfied with today's chapter, be sure that more is coming, I'm just not quite sure when ;)

But until then, have a wonderful day, and thank you for reading my story :)

By the way, if you haven't, you should definitely check out 'The return of Lorien' by 'I wish I could be Number Five'. It's a beautiful piece of creativity and eloquence, and it deserves way more reviews and following. You won't be disappointed, I promise.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

11

The great book, page one, paragraph three, sentence two: 'Killing is in our nature, and therefore, death is nature's way of showing our superiority.'

That's what it says, right there, in the most important documents in the world, personally written by our great leader Setrákus Ra: Death is natural. Death inevitable. It's the price we pay for living, for breathing, for thinking, for anything we do; no matter whether it's good or bad. No matter if you are the predator or the prey. No matter if you are part of an almost completely wiped out alien race or of one that almost completely wiped it out.

Good. Bad.

Just words. Abstract words. I don't like abstraction. Dad once tried to explain it to me, but I didn't quite grasp the idea.

'Something you can't see or hear,' he had said. 'Something that's not really there.'

'Why does it have a name if it isn't really there,' I had asked. That didn't make sense.

'Well, technically, it does exist, but… it somehow doesn't, too,' he had said and scratched his neck, like he always did when he was at a loss what to do with me. 'Numbers are abstract, for example.'

That was something I understood. I like numbers. Counting, calculating, remembering. I like numbers. Seven-hundred-forty-four pages of the great book. Five-billion Mogadorian soldiers invading Lorien. Two-billion Loric defending it. Ten surviving the fight. Three of them dead. Ten minus three makes seven. Seven still alive. I like numbers. The meaning of abstract still is a mystery to me, though.

The great book, page ten, paragraph four, first sentence: 'Leaving the dead behind is inevitable for progress.'

"Inevitable." I mutter into my pillow, letting the word melt on my tongue.

I-n-e-v-i-t-a-b-l-e. Ten letters. The sound of this particular word has burned itself into my mind since ever since I first learned to read, leaving a scar of dark memories. Inevitable like the flow of time. Inevitable like the circle of life. Inevitable like progress.

Progress.

P-r-o-g-r-e-s-s. Eight letters.

'Progress is our true purpose, the one and only goal we aim at, the one and only objective worth of our glorious nation.' Page one, paragraph two, first sentence.

Progress is the most important thing in every Mogadorian's life. My people is convinced that nothing is equal to progress, every single one of us has to push progress as hard as possible, no matter the cost. It doesn't even stop at one's own life.

And progress doesn't allow sorrow, neither. Progress doesn't allow anything close to grief. Showing sympathy is not appropriate for such a superior race. No mourning, no crying, no weeping. No feelings at all, feeling mean weakness.

That's fine with me, I don't like feelings anyway. Feelings only cause trouble, trouble causes panic and panic causes seizures. I don't like feelings. The world would be better off without them.

And yet, the sight of my father's ash in this old, rusty coffee can pushes the tears into my eyes every time.

I sniff. Sadness is a feeling, and feelings equal weakness.

W-e-a-k-n-e-s-s. Eight letters again.

'Weakness stands in progress' way. All weakness needs to be crushed.' Page two, paragraph six, third sentence.

Emotions other than rage and fury can't be tolerated. Emotions other than rage and fury must be extinct. In a world of continuous progress, there's no place for unnecessary frippery like emotions.

Emotions.

E-m-…

My bedroom door opens and Kelly enters. I quickly sit up and slam the lid of Dad's coffee can shut.

"Gosh, Anivia, You're still here?" She impatiently sighs when she spots me cowering on my bed. She glares at me with that threatening, daughter-of-the-General look and I immediately stand up from my bed. I don't want to make her mad by not showing her my due respect. Not today.

I want to answer her, to explain that I was caught up in thoughts and that I forgot about time. To apologize submissively as it is expected of me. But when I open my mouth to answer, I somehow can't get a sound out. I clear my throat and try again. No success again. All that I manage is some gargling cawing. I cough a couple of times and almost choke. It feels like a big lump is stuck in my gorge, blocking the entire air pipe. An odd stinging begins to spread across my chest, pinching off my throat.

I take a quick breath and try to exhale, but somehow I can't. The sudden blockade seems to only let air in, not out. I breathe in once more, just to make sure. Yes, definitely blocked. The air is stuck in my lungs, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to get it out.

My hand is shaking violently and I trip over something on the ground. Panic shoots through my mind, erasing all my thoughts, until there's only the desperate need for air. I take more and more breath, without being able to let the old oxygen out, until my lungs are filled to the top and I can't store any more. Desperately gasping for fresh air, my lips open and close uncontrollably, but still no sound escapes my throat. A spastic jerk goes through my legs, but it's the least of my worries. My eyes widen as my vision begins to blur from the lack of oxygen, and I shoot Kelly a panicked look.

"Not again," she says and yawns into her sleeve. She doesn't seem to care at all about my suffocating. "Come on, you're the one who should know what to. I'm not always here to get you out of this shit."

The world around slowly turns darker and darker. Ten maybe twenty seconds before I faint. I give Kelly another pleading glance and she finally takes pity on me.

"Your thought, Nivi, finish the thought. Gosh, why do I even have to tell you, it's not like you have those seizures all the freakin' time."

Her voice seems to come from far away, echoing like off of the walls of a tunnel.

Finish the thought, I keep repeatedly hearing her in my mind.

Thought.

T-h-o-u-g-h-t. Only seven letters.

'The right thoughts are what differs us from the minor creatures. Wasting thoughts on unnecessary matters is a hindrance and therefore dangerous to Mogadorian progress.' Page hundred-seventeen, paragraph five, fourth sentence.

Thought finished.

I gasp for breath. It still doesn't work.

It's like a part of my brain doesn't allow me to get new air into my lungs. My heart is racing, crying for fresh air to pump into my blood system.

Finish the other thought, a voice in the back of my mind seems to demand. Finish the other thought, that's what Kelly meant.

The other thought… What was the thought again?

Emotions!

E-m-o-t-i-o-n-s. Eight letters, once again.

'Ban all emotions from your soul, as they are the first step to hesitation.' Page twenty-six, paragraph one, third sentence.

Thought finished.

Once I have recited the last word of the phrase in my mind, the panicking seizure disappears, just as quickly as it came.

The lump in my throat is gone with it, and now that my throat is free again, I double over and throw up on the carpeted floor. With a loud pant I puff out all the air from my lungs and suck in fresh one.

Autism. I don't like my autism. Autism means seizures around the clock, every time I get excited or frustrated or scared or surprised…Well, every time something unexpected happens, there's a seizure. And seizures mean weakness.

I continue taking long, deep breaths. It always helps calming myself down. I count down from ten to one, an exercise Dad taught me. It keeps me busy while my mind and body returns to its usual state and I'm safe from another attack. _10, 9, 8…_

Until my heartbeat finally slows down and my muscles begin to relax again, I remain completely motionless and rigid. _4, 3, 2…_

After a while, when I have counted down from ten to one exactly fifty times, I open my eyes again, which I hadn't even noticed I had closed, and stand up from the floor, which I hadn't even noticed I had fallen to.

The short sensation of relief about being okay again quickly gets replaced by the shame and embarrassment of once again having a seizure in front of Kelly. I must never show any weakness. Especially not to her. Especially not today.

Kelly is just standing there in the doorframe, watching with a look of disgust as I painfully get on my feet. I avoid direct eye contact and brush the dust off of my blouse.

"This autism thing is getting worse, isn't it?" Kelly says as she sizes me up.

Autism.

A-u-t-i-s-m. Six letters.

One of the few words with no entry in the great book. Own definition: Hell.

Well, what can I say? The truth? The truth means admitting I'm weak. What would I accomplish by telling Kelly that my disability has been steadily deteriorating ever since Dad died six weeks, two days, and twenty one hours ago? Do I really believe that sharing this with her would make me feel any better? The best possible reply I would get from Kelly is that this whole thing is boring the shit out of her.

"I manage," I reply instead, and she gives me a crooked grin. She sees through me, she knows I'm lying, and she knows I know she knows it. And I bet my current condition amuses her, too.

Well, I probably do look quite miserable right now, still out of breath, my nose nastily runny. My short, spiky platinum hair must be a mess after wallowing on the floor.

I take a step towards Kelly to apologize for the seizure she just had to witness, to promise it won't happen again, even though we both know it will, but she immediately backs off as I come closer.

"Ew! You still just puked, Nivi. Don't come any closer, or I swear I'll have you fed to the Pikens. Get away from me, you idiot!" She screams and leans backwards to gain as much distance from me as possible.

I flinch back and mutter an apology. Kelly grimaces and shakes her head.

"Gross, you stink! How long ago was your last shower?" She says while waggling her hand in front of her nose. "Wash yourself and get dressed up, you can't meet to my father like that. You got five minutes."

"So the meeting with your father still stands?" I say in a relieved tone. After the seizure, I wasn't quite sure Kelly would keep her promise. But now that I mention my doubt, I immediately regret it. Kelly doesn't like being questioned. She frowns at me.

"Of course it still stands, or are you trying to say that I don't keep promises?" She replies. She glares at me in a way that sends icy chills down my spine, daring me to challenge her again.

"C-certainly not," I stutter and look down.

"Good," she says, satisfied she could prove who's boss once again. With a derogatory gesture she motions me to get into the bathroom. "Five minutes."

I nod.

"And, Nivi," She shouts as I turn to the bathroom door. "No more boondoggle! There's nothing the General hates more than waiting. Well, except for my beloved brother, maybe."

When I close the bathroom door, there's only four minutes and fifty-one seconds left.

* * *

Hello everybody!

First of all, thanks for your amazing reviews folks. They're seriously inspiring and just overall keeping my motivation up.

Secondly, I am sorry. Truly, _truly_ sorry for making you wait so long with this chapter. I can't promise anything, but I'll try to get them out more often from now on.

With that being said, I have something else on my mind that I would like to let out.

After receiving several reviews and messages that pointed out that I had some characters say stuff they would never say in the real books or act in a way they actually never would, I read through my story again.

And I realized you were right.

The way Ella behaved much older than a twelve year old would in the chapters where she was kept prisoner in that cell actually was intended, but the rest, like adding some sort of cold, calculating side to Eight while taking away his playfulness and childishness, or having Six show an emotional edge way too easily and making her appear weaker than she is described in the books, all of this is just bullshit I didn't notice when I was writing it.

I've come to realize – and I really don't want to sound self-pitiful – that I haven't stayed true to the real books at all, which is a huge mistake. What I've done is kind of reducing all their individual features and characteristics to one sort of Mary-Sue-character, which is probably the worst thing that can happen in a fanfiction.

So to all of you who noticed that, thanks for pointing it out, I'll have to try and fix it.

Which leads me to the reason it took me so damn long to get this chapter out. I just wasn't satisfied with the rest of my story, and it really held me up and kept me from getting this out earlier. It frustrated me to the point that I just couldn't force myself to sit down and get shit done.

Well, I ended up doing it anyway, so sorry for making you wait and sorry for not having such a huge chapter done when I finally get it out. I hope you guys don't think this is just some bad excuse.

So, to keep you informed about the current state of the next chapter, I decided to post the progress of the story on my profile and update it each time I work on it. That way, you'll have a clue about when the next one comes.

So, a big thanks to all of you who actually read this message. I'll try to outline the relationships between the characters and the characters themselves better in future chapters, maybe even some love scenes (even though I suck at that), who knows.

If you can forgive me for taking so damn long, please leave a review :)

See you all next chapter, or on my from now on hopefully always updated profile page, if you want to check that out.

Until then, have a wonderful time, and thanks sooooooooooooooooooo much for continuing reading my story, even though I made you wait for so long.


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

6

I've started scorching my sleeves at the bluely glowing force field out of boredom.

The hissing sound and the acrid stench of the cotton being dissolved in the wall of pure blue energy distracts me from our nagging problems. Or at least I'm trying to convince myself of that.

The worst thing is doing nothing all day long.

Just sitting here, damned to inactivity and not knowing what's really going on outside this stinky prison cell… it drives me crazy. I miss moving around freely, I even miss training, and most of all I miss talking to people.

People other than Nine, that is.

Well, to be honest, he's not much of a talker at all. Every time I try to start a conversation, all he gives me are vague, one-word answers. Either he is still pissed for whatever reason he had that outburst a day or so ago, or he's just very shy and bad at conversation.

And from what I've seen so far, he doesn't really seem like the shy type.

So I stopped trying to get him to talk to me a while ago and decided to think about a way out of here instead.

Without success, unfortunately.

My stomach growls and I press my hand against it to stop the noise. When did I last eat something? Must have been at breakfast, the morning we got captured. My mouth begins watering when I think back to the bulks of tasty food we had back then. I'd eaten at least half a dozen toasts with strawberry jam, my favourite flavour, and a glass of Ella's fresh, hand-pressed orange juice. God, I would _kill_ for just one more sip of it.

I close me eyes and picture the seven of us – John, me, Marina, Eight, Nine, Ella and Sarah – sitting at the kitchen table, not a care in the world, happy that we're all together. Eating piles of food, joking around, planning our next steps.

My stomach's hungry growl reminds me that just imagining all this won't get us closer to eating anything, either.

The guards haven't brought us food in all the time we've been here, neither anything to drink. I wonder how long we can survive until we die from dehydration. One more day, maybe two? If I don't croak from boredom until then.

I glance at Nine. He's sitting a few feet away from me, trying to play the cool guy, leaning backwards on his elbows, half a crooked grin on his face. He's been surprisingly calm since the outburst of emotions he'd had when I had first woken up in this cell. After agent Walker had told us they had captured Five, I expected him to be out of his mind.

But he's not. The whole thing about Five doesn't seem to bother him at all. What seems to bother him are the short beard stubbles have grown on his chin in the past two days. He keeps scratching and running his hands through them, and it starts to really drive me mad. He makes such a big deal around his chin, you could think we don't have other problems.

He shoots me a quick glance and our eyes meet. He blushes and turns away.

"What?" I say, when I finally have enough. Nine raises an eyebrow.

"What what?" He says in an innocent tone and looks at me with hypocritical eyes.

"What were you staring at?" I say, and he immediately blushes. Not quite as self-assured now, huh?

"I wasn't staring… I was just… thinking of a way to get out of here," he hesitatingly says.

I allow myself an amused grin about his excuse. He shyly looks away and scratches the tiny beard on his chin. Desperate for a conversation to distract me from the boredom, I try to grab the chance before we fall silent again.

"Right, so, did you come up with something to bust us out of here?"

"Actually, yeah," He says, staring at a spot in the blue force field.

"Well, are you going to tell me?" I ask, hoping to keep up the talking. He seems to consider if it's actually worth telling me for a moment, then he sits up and straightens his back.

"Okay, here it is. Next time agent Walker comes in through that hole in the force field, we take her by surprise, knock her out and escape through the hole before it closes again. Simple as that."

Nine looks at me with big eyes, waiting for me to congratulate on his brilliant plan. He reminds me of Ella, when she shows me one of her drawings. Fishing for compliments.

I almost laugh.

"And then what? There definitely are more guards here than just Walker. What do you expect us to do, just trash our way out?"

"I'm sure we'll figure something out once we are outside," Nine replies with a shrug. He's definitely disappointed I don't appreciate his incredible plan.

"And how can you be so sure Walker will even come back at all. For all we know, they might just let us rot in here until we're just skin and bones."

Nine shakes his head.

"Nah, if they had wanted to kill us, they could have just done that any time in the past two days. I think they got something else for us in mind," he says and lays back.

I know what he means. Our captors haven't killed us yet, because still they need us. They are setting up a trap, with Nine and I as the bait. They think that as long as they keep us alive, the other Garde will try to save us. They're trying to get to them through us. That's the only explanation I can come up with for why they wouldn't just kill us right away. They didn't hesitate to kill One, Two and Three, so why would they show mercy to us, if not for their own benefit?

Nine clears his throat. He strokes his long dark hair back and, surprisingly enough, he changes the topic.

"So, Six… With all this saving-the-world stuff going on, I feel like we should get to know each other better," Nine silently mutters.

He lays on his back, staring at the ceiling, and I can tell it took him quite some overcoming to get out this sentence.

I tilt my head. He might be the shy type after all.

"Okay, let me see… I'm an alien from another planet so far away, the journey to earth took one whole year. I'm one of the last of my species that survived a senseless war and now I have to live in constant fear of being found and killed by bloodthirsty monsters that won't rest until they have wiped out every single one of us.

In my free time, I like picking flowers, writing cheesy crap in my little pink diary and exchanging gossip about boys with my friends," I say and Nine frowns at me.

"Come on, what do you expect me to me to say?" I smirk.

"Tell me about your life on earth, you know, after we landed," he answers with a straight face.

"Seriously? You want me to tell me about my boring, sheltered life? A tough guy like you would actually care about a wimp like me?"

My voice drips from sarcasm, but, as usual, he doesn't get it and actually seems to take the 'tough guy' part as a compliment.

"Well, as I said, I feel like we should get to know each other, anyway," he replies, as if to console me, and I have to suppress the urge to smack him in the face.

"Alright, my life… Well, obviously, it was all about Katarina," Nine gives me an irritated glance.

"My Cêpan," I explain.

"What was she like?" He asks, and I start wondering what this is really all about. Seriously, what does he care about Katarina?

"Well, obviously, she was like a mother to me. Probably even more than just that. I don't know, she was really all I ever had, all I could ever hold on to. The only consistent thing in my non-stop changing life. She always had her duties in mind, but also left me my space when I needed it. She was just…" I stop before I get too emotional.

"I just wish she was here right now. She would know what to do."

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking all along. If our Cêpan were here, things would look quite differently," Nine mumbles. I nod, even though that's not what I actually meant to say. What I meant to say is that I'm missing Katarina.

Forever.

We stay silent for a few moments. The constant buzz of the static force field is the only sound in our little prison cell.

"Did your Cêpan ever let you go to school?" Nine asks after a while.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, after months of begging, she allowed me to, but I had to be on alert all the time. If there was anything suspicious, I'd have to be on the run immediately."

"Did that happen often?" He asks and sits up again.

"All the time. There was that one time in a small town near the Mexican border; it was our third week there, and I was just getting used to the new school and everything. We were in the middle of PE class - it was summer and our school had its own pool, so we were allowed to swim in there – when Katarina suddenly drives right up to the school's entrance in our jeep and yells at me to jump in. News of strange men strolling through the region whose description barely even matched the Mogadorians' had been enough for her. Just like that, she had decided to pick me up in the middle of school and to never return again.

All my classmates were watching with their mouth open as I got out of the pool and trotted to the car with nothing on but my wet swimming suit. There would be time to change into dry clothes later."

I make a short pause to look up and check if Nine is still paying attention. You wouldn't believe it, but he is. Sitting with his legs pulled to his chest, he listens to every word I say. So I continue.

"I hated this constant running away. Every time I found the few friends I was allowed to have, we just had to disappear. Every time we stayed longer than a couple of weeks, and I thought that this time, I might get the chance to live a normal life, bam," I throw my hands up in the air in frustration, "out of nowhere some threat appears and Katarina and I move again."

Nine nods sympathetically.

"Ever left any boyfriends behind on one of these runs?" he asks in an overly casual way.

"What?" I raise an eyebrow. The question took me completely by surprise.

"Boyfriends, you know, lovers, admirers, whatever."

"No, never had any. How about you? Any vengeful ex-girlfriends I should know about?"

Nine blushes and looks away. "Not too many."

He thoughtfully scratches the small beard on his chin. It's hard to admit this, but I actually like the short stubbles. They add something more mature to his otherwise rather baby-facelike features.

I shrug, turn away and get back to singing my sleeves.

I still don't understand his sudden interest in my life, but at least it's helped pass some time. Not too much, but I'm grateful for any distraction.

Nine clears his throat behind me. "So, umm… Tell me, how was it for you, living among humans?"

I almost smirk at his desperate attempts to try and keep up the conversation. It's like we've swapped roles.

"Well, I always felt different than the humans. I could never commit to anything other kids my age would do, out of fear that someone might find out who I really was. I always had to keep in mind that if somebody lifted our secret, they would put me in some science laboratory and do all kinds of experiments."

"Can't trust these humans, huh?" Nine grins and shakes his head.

"Actually, that's not what I meant at all," I reply. "Why are you always so down on humans anyway?"

Nine laughs. "Well, 'cause they're humans, duh. They're selfish, greedy and they destroy everything they get their grip on."

"Are you still talking about the humans? 'Cause that sounds a lot more like the Mogs to me," I say in a mocking voice and turn around to him.

"That's exactly the point. I've been thinking…"

"Wow, thinking?" I interrupt him and he crooks half a grin.

"…And I've come to the conclusion that the Mogadorians and the humans share way too many traits. They both start wars for no reason, destroy their own planets out of greed and they both treat other races with arrogance and cruelty. That's probably why the US-government is getting along with the Mogs so well. Because humans and Mogs both are heartless, evil creatures, who enjoy seeing others crawl in the dirt" he says.

I stare at him with my mouth open in indignation. Did he really say that? I look for a sign that he's just joking, but his face is completely straight.

"Seriously? You actually believe in that bullshit?" I ask and he shrugs.

"It's the truth, Six. I was in a prison cell like this one for a whole year because a human betrayed me to the Mogs,"

"Okay, so there are some humans who have similarities to Mogs, but that's a minority. You're forgetting about the rest. Think of all the humans that helped us instead of fighting alongside the Mogs. Take Sarah, for example…" I say, but Nine cuts me off.

"To be honest, Six, the only thing Sarah has ever done is slowing the rest of us down. We're trying to fight an entire alien species here! Having to babysit a human in the process only adds to the impossibility of the task."

I glare at him in shock.

"That's what you think? That just because she might be weaker, she's superfluous? You're not better than the Mogs, Nine."

"Maybe," he replies with a shrug. "But that's not the point. I just don't see how Sarah fits into this whole thing. It's ridiculously dangerous, and chances are that none of us gets out of this alive. It would have been better for everyone, including her, if we had just dumped her somewhere on the way from that military base in New Mexico. For her own good.

You see, it's not that I can't stand humans, I'm just saying that you shouldn't rely on them. They're just not trustworthy."

"What about our greeters? The people who helped us when we landed on earth? They have been chosen by the Loric themselves, so they must be somehow trustworthy."

Nine laughs out loudly.

"The greeters? Tell me, Six, where are they now? Now that we need them the most, where are those greeters? Where are your brave and strong humans? They're hiding, 'cause they have given up hope on us, trying not to be spotted and punished by the Mogs. And what do you expect them to do, anyway. After all, they're just humans. It's not like they could walk in here and just demand our release. They wouldn't stand a chance against the Mogadorians in combat. No, we're on our own for this one. The only way out of here is punching ourselves through."

"Alright, humans aren't as physically fast and strong as us or the Mogs are. So what?"

"So what? Survival of the fittest, Six. It's what your precious humans themselves preach. The strong will dominate and the weak will have to bow down," he says, and I'm not sure if he's being sarcastic. I hope he is.

And anyway, didn't he just say that treating other races as inferior is one of the Mogs' worst traits? And now he's doing it himself.

I'm about to mention this, when suddenly the buzz of the force field around us gets louder for apparently no reason. I look around and notice a hole in the bluely glowing wall slowly opening up to my left. While it gets bigger, someone puts his head through the not yet fully opened hole and peeks into our cell. It takes me a few seconds to realize that person is agent Walker.

Her face has changed since I've last seen her, which can't be more than half a day ago. It's covered in frizzing wrinkles, as if she's grown older by many years. Her upper lip is chapped. She must have been biting it a lot in the last hours.

She has so many dark rings under her eyes that her face has some similarities with a turtle's. The right corner of her mouth keeps twitching in sudden spasms, as if she has lost all control of her own expressions. Her otherwise so carefully arranged red hair is now hanging around her head in loose strokes. The bandage she wears on her forehead has slipped down a bit and expose countless scuffs, scratches and other open wounds, some still bleeding.

She doesn't wait until the hole in the field has completely opened, but just jumps through when there's just enough space for her. As she does, she slightly touches the edge of the force field FBI uniform gets scorched around her right shoulder.

She doesn't even notice.

Instead she shrieks at us in an oddly pitched voice, and I flinch.

"WHO'S THE BOY?" she screams out of her mind. "Tell me right now, who's the god damn boy?"

What on earth is she talking about? I shoot Nine a quick glance, but his puzzled look tells me he's just as confused as I am. In fact, he seems so distracted by her bizarre appearance, that he forgot about his glorious plan to knock her out and escape through the hole.

"You don't want to answer? You think you are smarter than me? You think ol' agent Walker is stupid?" She lets out a pitched, hysterical laugh. The flickering blue light of the force field casts creepy shadows that give her a menacing look. Then her expression suddenly turns back serious and she rips her eyes wide open.

"Don't worry, my little alien friends, ol' agent Walker will make you speak," she says and the corner of her mouth twitches again. I get a bad feeling about what she might mean with that.

"That's right, the FBI has some techniques to make people talk."

With that said, she crooks a malicious smile and turns around towards the hole in the force field.

"Jenkins, give me your gun," she shouts to someone who must be standing just outside our prison cell.

"Ma'am, I don't think that will be necessa…," a man's voice begins to answer, but Walker cuts him off.

"I will be the one to decide what's necessary, Jenkins. If you have anything to say, we can to talk to Mr. Purdy about it, I'm sure he'll like the idea of you disobeying orders again," she hisses in a bittersweet tone that gives me goosebumps.

"No, Ma'am. Sorry Ma'am," the man stutters back, obviously intimidated by the agent. And who could blame this guy? Walker looks scary as hell in the glimmering blue light of the force field, and the way she speaks sends icy chills down my neck.

A rifle is thrown into the prison cell through the hole, and Walker takes her time picking it up. With an insane grin on her lips, she turns back to us, pointing the gun at us. She grimaces and bares her deeply yellow teeth.

"Now, my little alien friends, is there something you want to tell me? I'll ask you this one last time, who is the boy?"

She cocks the rifle and gives us and impatient glare.

Usually, I'd stay calm in this situation. Usually, I have nerves of steal. I've been at this end of a gun too often in the last few weeks to even be afraid of it now. But it's not the gun that causes the panic to rise in my chest right now, it's the person holding it.

The agent's face is one whole grimace of nervous twitching and wincing. I doubt that it's just a strategy to intimidate us.

Something's obviously wrong with her. She doesn't behave like a normal person would, not even close to that. She doesn't seem to notice the bleeding wounds on her head, she laughs hysterically at everything like a madman, and she is about to shoot us if we don't tell her who some boy is. It's like she's so obsessed with hating us, she forgets how to human.

The most disturbing thing, though, are her eyes. With a fiery, insane look they scurry all around the room, not really fixating on anything specific, as if she doesn't actually perceive her surroundings, just her enemies. Which unfortunately are Nine and me.

I may not know exactly about her mental condition, but one thing is for sure: she will pull the trigger if we don't give her the answers she wants. And she's going to do it soon.

"What boy do you mean? You know, a little more details than just 'who's the god damn boy' would help," Nine says, his voice a bit hoarse. He stands up and takes a step towards Walker.

He's trying to play the tough guy again, acting all self-confident and so, while it's pretty obvious that he's just as scared of the agent as I am. At her current state, who knows what she could do. An unpredictable enemy is even worse than one with mere power.

"The boy, _the boy_, my little alien friends," she yelps with her eyes so wide open I almost expect her eyeballs to just drop out of their sockets. "The boy that helped number Five to escape, who else, silly kiddo. The boy, the boy… Oh yes, my dear alien friends, ol' agent Walker knows you know him. You have to know him. So who is he? Whooooooooo is he?" she slurs.

"Wait, Five escaped?" I ask and instantly regret it. We mustn't let her know that we actually have no idea who number Five is – we don't even know if it's a boy or a girl – not to mention this mysterious boy that helped her or him escape. If she finds that out, we're screwed.

Luckily, she doesn't seem to have heard me. She's too busy glaring at some point in the force field behind us.

I catch Nine's eyes, and he shrugs. He's just as clueless as I am about what to do now.

I remember his plan about knocking agent Walker out and escaping through the hole. Maybe, if we can distract her somehow…

I turn back to Walker, who has begun to slowly topple in our direction. She aims the rifle back and forth between Nine's head and mine. Every time she points it at me, I flinch, but I don't dare to show too much of a reaction. It might provoke her.

Like a wolf stalking its prey, the agent comes closer and closer. Her finger already hovers above the trigger. I can hear her rattling breath as she thinks about just pulling it. It can't take much longer until she realizes we have no idea what she's talking about.

"Ma'am, the Mogadorian representative is here," the voice of the man that Walker was talking to earlier suddenly sounds through our cell and rips the agent out of her animalistic state. "He demands to talk to you, Ma'am."

Walker hesitates for a moment.

"He demands to talk to you, _right now_, Ma'am," the man says again.

"I'm going, I'm going," Walker yells back and reluctantly turns around to walk through the hole in the force field.

As she steps our of our cell, the hole begins to close quickly. Our last chance to escape. If we want to make our move, it has to be now. But I'm still too shocked, too shaken to even think about moving.

The hole is just big enough for us to see her face when she turns back around to us.

"And my little alien friends, don't think ol' agent Walker forgot about. Oh no, ol' agent Walker never forgets. And ol' agent Walker never forgives."

The cruel, sinister smile on her lips is the last thing I see before the hole fully disappears again.

* * *

Hey everybody!

Folks, this it, I admit it, I'm not what I used to be. I somehow can't just make these chapters magically appear every two or three days anymore like I used to - rather every half a month. I don't know how this changed, but it did, and it's time I face it ;)

Anyways, I have already written down about 90 % of the next chapter, since I thought I would actually use it as last chapter (chapter 12), but in the end I decided not to, which is why I'll hopefully get that out in a couple of days.

We'll see what happens after that =)

So, until then, have a wonderful time as you always do ;D

And for reading my story


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

11

The walls appear somehow darker than ever as I follow Kelly through the long hallways of the underground Ashwood Estates base.

I've only been allowed to get so deep down into the important areas a few times, and I don't like it. Too many dark corners.

"Here we go, Nivi," Kelly says and we take the last turn.

The corridor with General Andrakkus Sutekh's briefing room appears even more threatening than the rest of this place. The ceiling is painted red, with the emblem of my people in black: Our great leader's face in front of the letters M and P.

M P as in Mogadorian progress. M P as in malicious predators. M P as in monstrous pillagers.

M P as in murdering people. People I love.

As we come closer, I spot the General's personal standing in the shadows of the big door to the briefing room.

Four big, vat-born Mogadorian soldiers with long, violent daggers. Very impressive.

They're known to be the best of the best. Outstanding by both experience and skill in combat. The vat-born's elite.

The four of them keep anyone from entering, except for people with special appointments. The General is very busy these days, and there's a long queue of way more important people than me who are all trying to get into a meeting with him.

Being the General's daughter's friend has its benefits after all. I should be grateful for what I can get.

Grateful.

G-r-a-t-e-f-u-l. Eight letters.

Being grateful is the natural reaction to receiving benefits. The natural reaction to benefits such as the compassion and sympathy Kelly has been showing me over the past few weeks.

I'm not good at natural reactions, they usually either fail to appear completely, or just partly pop up. Dad had once explained to me that, for interaction with other living beings, the absence of natural reactions can lead to the interaction not functioning properly, as the other person will often not quite understand what you mean.

That's why I often have to force those natural reactions, which leads to them actually not being natural anymore, which makes the whole thing paradoxical therefore and senseless. Dad had told me to do it anyway. It would help me to not feel too different. What it actually does is help the others to not feel I'm too different.

Well, to be honest, Kelly hasn't arranged this meeting just out of compassion and sympathy, though. Words like compassion and sympathy probably don't even exist in her vocabulary; and if they do, they probably don't mean much more to her than the little earthworms she still picks up from time to time to play around with.

Not that it's something to complain about, I doubt that any Mogadorian knows such words. In fact, compared to other Mogs our age, Kelly actually is a lovely young lady, with way more compassion and sympathy towards weaker people like me than any of the others. Unlike them, she doesn't bully me around or laughs at my disability. Or at least not quite as often.

She might be the 'spoiled princess of Ashwood', as some jealous kids our age call her behind her back, but she is the only thing close to a friend I have.

And even though she usually behaves like the whole world - especially I - should bow down to her, she helped me get through those weeks after Dad died. I'll never forget that. Never.

In these weeks, when she was about the only person I'd talk to, we've grown a lot closer together. I had never imagined it would be possible for me to experience this, but during this time, I've actually come to really appreciate her. You could even call the bond between us, well, friendship.

Friendship.

F-r-i-e-n-d-s-h-i-p. Ten letters.

I think I've understood this concept. If two people get along well with each other, it's called friendship. I definitely do get along well with Kelly – to the point that I almost like her – and I think that she actually does fell the same about me, even though she doesn't show that for some reason. She usually treats me like dirt, but my Dad had once explained to me that people sometimes do the opposite of what they actually feel.

I didn't really understand why. But Dad usually knew his stuff really well.

Despite all this, the actual reason why Kelly had a meeting with her father arranged in the first place was not out of compassion but pure selfishness. The truth is that she actually uses me as an excuse to finally get an audience with her father. She needs me, because apparently the General doesn't take her seriously in private. By arranging a meeting for me, she hopes to finally get the chance to tell him what she wanted to tell him for years already.

This meeting is not about me, that's just a pretext. It's about her. It's always about her.

Kelly and I both want the same thing from the General, though, and that's the only reason I've agreed to this whole thing. That, and the fact that Kelly threatened to feed me to the Pikens if I don't.

Freedom.

F-r-e-e-d-o-m. Seven letters.

We both want freedom.

'Freedom is a fool's illusion. All of us are just another part of the game of fate. And this game has only one rule: Progress. There is no room for illusions.' The great book, page fourteen, paragraph two, second sentence.

I don't believe in this part.

It contradicts everything they teach us in Mogschool, but I don't believe in this part.

Freedom is not just an illusion. It's more.

I believe in freedom.

And so does Kelly.

Just like me, Kelly has been caged in this base for almost all her life. We may live at the surface and not so deep down here, but all in all it's the same thing. The furthest she ever gets away from here is on rare trips to the Washington D.C. city center. She finally wants to have the freedom to travel around the world for a while, even if that means having to live among humans. To get to know the planet she's going to be a part of ruling over in a couple of years, when the Mogadorians have taken over world domination. To _do_ something instead of being trapped in an underground fortress.

'Gosh, I can't believe we're still hiding down here. It's like we're the ones who are afraid of the humans, not the other way around.' she had said during one of those long conversations we've had lately. Well, it's not exactly what you could call a conversation.

I've looked the definition up in a dictionary. The term 'conversation' can only be used when both interlocutors take part in the dialogue.

In our case, mostly Kelly just kept bragging about pretty much everything there is to brag about. I don't mind, I never know what to say when having a 'conversation', anyway. But it's not a correct conversation. I'll just call it talk. Talk.

So during those talks, Kelly's made it pretty clear that she wants to get away from this place. And Kelly usually gets what she wants.

That was one part of our talks, escaping the Ashwood Estates. But as much as Kelly wished for that, there has always been that one other subject she would always talk about. The one big question that just doesn't seem to leave her mind for a minute.

Something you'd never expect of the spoiled princess of Ashwood.

Something unselfish, kindhearted.

In fact, what she told me was just so surprising I had a seizure.

In the very beginning, the day she had found me crying over my Dad's ashes for the first time, her talks had still been limited to small rants about life's little injustices. She had done that for me, to cheer me up, to distract me from Dad's death. It's hard to believe that the cold-hearted, arrogant girl that is walking in front of me right now with her head held high is the same girl that had the mercy to be there for me when I was drowning in grief and sorrow about Dad. She was the only one who cared all this time, and she still is.

I definitely show how grateful I am for that, and that's another reason I agreed to her plan to convince the General to let us leave.

She might be the daughter of an important and powerful leader of my people but that was not one of the reasons. And she might be in such a high social and military position that she could as well just order me to come along, but that's not one of the reasons, either. No. Not one of the reasons. Not one of the reasons why I'm following her right now. No.

I'm following her because she is… I stop dead in my tracks for a second, before the word comes to my mind.

Different.

D-i-f-f-e-r-e-n-t. Nine letters.

'The right thoughts are what differs us from the minor creatures. Wasting thoughts on unnecessary matters is a hindrance and therefore dangerous to Mogadorian progress.' Page hundred-seventeen, paragraph five, fourth sentence.

But Kelly is not just different from minor creatures, she's different from everyone else, too.

And that's exactly the reason why I'm following her. Because she's different.

And because I am different, too.

If I wasn't, Kelly surely wouldn't have told me the things I know now. She knows that anybody else would just report her to the authorities right away. Anybody else would dismiss her views as treason and that would have cost her her high social and military position at least. If not her head.

If I was anyone else, Kelly wouldn't have trusted me.

But I'm not anyone else. I'm Nivi. Yes, that's me, Nivi. Nivi, the one Kelly trusted. It's me.

I don't dare thinking about the content of those talks, though. Not right now. What she told me was so revolutionary and shocking, every time I do think about it I have one of my autistic seizures.

Some people would call those talks eye-opening, even I don't quite understand this expression. When you suddenly understand something you didn't understand before, it's not like you open your eyes, more like a barrier in your brain suddenly broke and then you can think about things in a different way. I'd rather call it barrier-breaking.

I often had that sensation when Dad would explain things to me. And the exact same thing happened with Kelly. She'd say everything in a way that even I could understand them, so all in all you can say that she's a very barrier-breaking person.

That also is part of the big Kelly-mystery, that imposed itself on me in the past weeks.

On one hand there's Kelly Sutekh, daughter of the General, who is an arrogant prick who brags about how she could do everything better than everybody else. The Kelly Sutekh who gets everything she ever asks for and still complains about how unfair her life is. The Kelly Sutekh who is my commander.

On the other hand, there's the Kelly Sutekh who is different. The Kelly Sutekh who doesn't even seem to think in a Mogadorian way at all. The Kelly Sutekh who is my friend.

She keeps switching between those two states. Most of the time when we're alone, she's gently and understanding as the friend-Kelly. The rest of the time she's harsh and ignorant as the commander-Kelly.

Two halves of the same person. Just like two different coats she can put on whenever she wants to.

Right now, she's the commander-type, pride and arrogance shining in her eyes, her straight back and bullish walk display confidence and nervousness at the same. I try imitating her posture, but it just looks ridiculous on me.

On me. Nivi. Nivi, that's me. Nivi, still the one Kelly trusted.

Trusted with some seriously irritating, shocking, radical, almost scandalous stuff.

Again, I have to stop my thoughts from moving onwards. The excitement and mixed opinions in my mind from just thinking about all that she told me is already making me nervous. I can't risk a seizure right now. The ideas she has talked about - strange, foreign, _alien_ ideas from a Mogadorian's point of view, the exact opposite of what you would expect the daughter of a General to believe – it is too much of a threat. If someone found out about all that, Kelly would be dead within minutes.

And if someone found out that I had known all this time, I'd join her promptly. Not to mention what would happen if someone discovered my own secrets.

Secrets.

S-e-c-r-e-t-s. Seven letters.

'A man with secrets is dangerous to his fellow men. Keeping secrets from the cause therefore is a crime. A cohesive society is the key to progress.' The great book, page twenty-six, paragraph two, first, second and third sentence.

I am a criminal, no question. That's what the great book says. But I didn't choose to be a criminal, no. Dad did. Dad chose for me when he saved my life. Dad chose. Not me. Not Nivi, No.

The four guards motion us to stop as we approach them. Kelly throws her head back into the nape of her neck to look them in their cruel faces, but I don't bother to. The floor is way less intimidating.

The guards announce our arrival to the General through the closed door of the briefing room. The general is in the middle of an appointment with someone else right now, so we have to wait until they have finished discussing their matters.

Kelly lets out an impatient sigh and frowns at the guards. Her father isn't the only one who hates waiting.

"Now, now, young lady," one of the vat-born guards says in an overly mocking tone and pokes her with the tip of his dagger. "Don't you be so antsy."

For a second my heart makes a jump. Any regular guard allowing himself to talk to the General's daughter in such a disrespecting way must have either gone crazy or grown tired of life. Someone of such a high rank as Kelly would just outright order the execution of this guy for this. If this was anyone else than her, the guard's life would be worth less than a straw right now.

And a straw is not worth much, if that is not clear.

But the fact that the soldiers are treating Kelly so lax is nothing extraordinary around here. Being the General's daughter, Kelly has a lot more contact to the soldiers than anyone else our age, and she gets along pretty well with all of them. Growing up in their middle, with a father that never had time and two brothers that almost killed each other, the vat-born soldiers have become almost like family replacement for her over the years. A really big family, maybe, but it still is better than nothing.

Better than what _I_ got left. Which actually is nothing. Nothing except for Kelly. Yep, only got Kelly left.

So instead of punishing the soldier, Kelly just laughs and dramatically fakes being hurt, holding her side as if the dagger has caused some serious damage. The guard that poked her laughs and pats her shoulder.

I watch the whole thing and can't help but be jealous. For a Mogadorian, Kelly is exceptionally social. Despite being raised as an ignorant prick, she treats every Mogadorian with respect, no matter his military status or his origins or whatever the other kids our age judge people by. An almost generous characteristic, considering how other people in her position deal ordinary soldiers. She doesn't seem to care if someone is trueborn or has been artificially created in one of the underground breeding stations, she just sees the Mog in everyone.

And unlike me, she doesn't have a congenital disability that prevents her from normal social interaction. No, she doesn't. Jealous.

Anyway, actual trueborns like Kelly have become rarer these days, and because of that, most of them believe they are somewhat special and just overall _better_ than the vat-born.

Vat-born.

V-a-t-b-o-r-n.

It's strange, but there's no entry in the great book about them, either. I've often thought about that. About why there is no mentioning of our artificially created conspecifics. Perhaps our great leader just didn't think they're important enough to mention them when he wrote the great book.

Or he didn't want _them_ to think they're important enough.

'Either way, it's an issue that needs to be dealt with,' Dad would always say. 'In the last few years, the Mogadorian society has been splitting apart more and more. On the one side, there's the trueborn, a small percentage of the total Mog population, but still the ones in charge, the ones with all the power. They are drowning in wealth and luxury knickknacks, while the vat-born plug away at the dirty and hard work.'

That was a concept I understand, Mogadorian social structures. No abstract nonsense, just straightout facts.

It has been like that for ever, with the trueborn reigning over the rest, and it has never been a problem, neither from the vat-born side, nor from the trueborn one. Up until a few years.

'Discipline, awe and duty, these are three principles our lives are dedicated to. Our discipline makes us strong, our awe makes us smart, and our duty gives us a purpose.' Page three, paragraph one, first sentence.

Under these conditions, the vat-born were created. Our great leader himself was part of the brilliant minds behind the project. Him and some expert scientists had been working on it for years, until in the end the result were the vat-born.

The perfect soldiers.

Discipline, awe and duty, the three characteristics every vat-born inherits at his or her birth. They cover each aspect an ideal Mogadorian needs, and additionally guarantee absolute obedience. Without a will of their own, there's no questioning orders. Simple but brilliant logic.

During the chemical breeding process, every vat-born is being artificially programmed to follow these laws, no matter what situation it might personally get them into. Once a vat-born comes out of the breeding facilities, it feels an overwhelming need to obey every order their military superiors give them without thinking twice. No morals, no individuality, just another face in the unstoppable army of Mogadore, waiting to crush the enemy.

'The gap between the two different kinds of the same race got bigger and bigger over the years, with the trueborn shamelessly exploiting the vat-born unconditional loyalty,' Dad had once explained to me when I had asked him. 'At the first great expansion, on the glorious day the Mogadorians overcame Lorien, half of the entire vat-born population died on the battlefield. The trueborn simply used them as cannon fodder for their strategies, with a frightening amount of tasteless disregard of vat-born lives.

After the battle, they simply replaced the dead soldiers with new ones, not even mentioning the price the vat-born had paid.

Of course, that was the plan all the way. Having an endless supply of loyal soldiers. It was the reason why our great leader created the vat-born in the first place.

But after the bloodbath on Lorien, there were some who questioned this throwing-away of lives. The vat-born were Mogadorians, too, after all, and a few voices that had the courage to speak out criticized the way the trueborn didn't care about their artificial brothers in the tiniest bit.

Those voices were shut down immediately, cruelly eliminated for high treason and sedition. For a long time, no one dared to say a word, fearing to share the fate of the first few who were unfortunate enough to publicly admit their opinion.'

'But Dad,' I had replied, 'What's the difference between them and us? I mean, biologically, we're almost the same. Why shouldn't we treat vat-born like trueborn?'

'That's exactly the point, Nivi,' he had said. 'Sympathy for the weak - the vat-born in this case - is viewed as a fatal character trait in the Mogadorian society. Our great leader benefits from us trueborn believing we should treat the vat-born as dirt, so he doesn't want that to change.'

I had nodded, because that's something I understand. Straightout facts. Yes. I like facts.

Our great leader had relied on society's cruelty and ignorance. He had been sure the few objectors that had ever doubted him had been extinguished.

Well, as I found out during those conversations with Kelly, he was wrong.

The door to the briefing room suddenly opens and I'm surprised to see a human walk out. Judging by all the badges pinned to his anorak, he must be an important military man. As he leaves the briefing room, I hear the General's loud, rough voice call after him.

"Don't think you'll just get away like that, agent Purdy. Be careful with your next moves, or I swear your country will regret ever having deceived the unstoppable force of Mogadore."

All the colour is drained from the human's face as he doubles his pace, storms past us and rushes towards the exit. As he disappears around the corner and I shoot Kelly a nervous glance, but she doesn't seem to know what this was about, either.

The vat-born guards give us permission to enter the briefing room and I turn my attention back to the impending meeting with the General.

The General. I'm meeting him. Me. Nivi. It's me. Meeting the General. My hands start shaking at the fact that I'll be standing face to face to one of the most important Mogadorians in history.

General.

G-e-n-e-r-a-l. I'm so nervous I need my fingers to count the letters. Four, Five, Six, Seven. Seven letters.

'Reaching the rank of a Mogadorian General is the rarest and biggest honor there is. A General's skill in combat, his faith in progress, hisdedication to our cause and his never ending will to fight exceed the average by far and are an example of the perfect Mogadorian.' Page sixty-nine, paragraph four, third and fourth sentence.

Blessed with an iron will and a precise sense for opportunities, General Andrakkus Suketh had quickly moved up the social and military ladder in his early years. The big hopes that were put into him weren't let down when he lead the first great expansion in Lorien.

One of the strongest and mightiest warriors of our race, and a brilliant tactician, too. That's what the Mog teachers keep preaching in our little Mog schools. He might even take our great leader's place some day.

Well, in reality, the General is way more than _just_ strong, mighty and brilliant. He's a scary, ruthless, unpredictable Mogadorian with the tendency to kill before breakfast; some even call him Setrákus Ra's right hand.

One thing is for sure, this man has killed more people than anyone else in Mog history. And surely he won't hesitate before knocking your head off at the slightest sign of disobedience.

Kelly turns to me and gives my shaking hands a disapproving look.

"Stop that," she says in a way that has some resemblance to her father's harsh tone. "When we're in there," she motions over her shoulder towards the briefing room, "you mustn't show any weakness, you hear me? Under no circumstances, is that clear? No shaking, no stuttering, and pray to god that you won't have another seizure. If my father finds out about your autism thing, he'll immediately dump you somewhere in the surveying area and you'll never get out of there, not in a thousand years. So, never show any sign of weakness, or your only chance will dissolve into ashe, understood?"

_Our_ only chance, she means. This opportunity is as important to her as to me, if not even more. If I fail to somehow trick the General into believing I'm ready to live outside of Ashwood Estates – which I'm definitely not –, then he won't give Kelly the permission either.

At least, that's what Kelly is convinced of. Personally, I don't see the connection between her and me, but who am I to question the General's daughter.

I nod to let her know she's not going to be let down. I want to say something reassuring, too, because people like being lied to, but I don't know what to say. I never know what to say. Most of the things I do say somehow don't come out the way I want them to.

It has to do with my autism, Dad had once explained to me. He had told me that a normal brain filters out ninety percent of all the incoming information, so that the conscious thinking doesn't overload with unnecessary stuff. My own brain is usually just like that, as normal as anyone else's. But sometimes, when I am suddenly interrupted in the middle of my thoughts – just like earlier today – or I'm under big pressure, or sometimes even just for no reason at all, a switch inside my mind gets triggered and this filter suddenly stops working. Then, all the unimportant details from my surroundings all hit me at once, my whole subconscious gets emptied right on me and I have a seizure.

'It's nothing to be ashamed of,' Dad would always tell me when I came home crying from school after the other kids had bullied me around again. 'It's okay, it's a part of you. Just don't let it get you down. One day you will see things differently, and then you'll understand this is not'

He would then hug me and gently stroke my hair back very unmogadorianlike while I would bury my face in his uniform. That's what I miss the most, the safety of his embrace, the silent songs he would always hum, that caring look in his big purple eyes.

I close my eyes for a second and shake my head. Thinking back to the good times isn't what will help me get through the meeting with the General.

Focus.

F-o-c…

No, I can't get distracted anymore.

I gulp, trying my best to block out the protest of the autistic part of my brain. I can't let anything distract me from the current situation, shove the precious memories away.

I have to be strong, I tell myself. Strong and brave, like Dad. He gave his life to the cause, even if he wasn't as convinced as the others. Even if he doubted the reasons for our presence on this stranger planet so far away from Mogadore, he still gave his life for the cause. For progress.

And now, I have to be strong for him. Put in a complex way, it was progress that saved my life as he rescued me back from the bloodbath on Lorien.

And for his sake, so that all he did won't be for nothing, I take a deep breath, pull myself together and follow Kelly into the briefing room.

Be strong.

Strong.

S-t-r-o-n-g.

'Only the strong will survive. Only the strong will prevail. Only the strong can travel the glorious path of progress.' Page six, Paragraph one, sixth sentence.

Only the strong will not panic when standing face to face with the General himself.

And slowly, I begin to realize I'm not of the strong kind.

* * *

Hey evewybuddy,

Thanks for your reviews folks, I love all of you. No exception.

I don't have much else to say today, so I'll just remind you guys that you can always see how close I am to finishing the next chapter by clicking on my profile, where I'll be updating the progress of all my chapters.

So, as promised, here's the next chapter. Next one is already on its way, might take a while, though.

In the meantime, have a wonderful day, and thanks to ALL of you for reading my story =)


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

4

I keep staring into the thick layer of smoke around us, trying to catch a last glimpse of Marina disappearing through the hole in the back wall of the train car. For a split-second, I can make out her long, dark hair shortly flutters in the wind.

Then she's gone, and it's our turn.

Hand in hand, Sarah and I stand right next to each other, facing the destroyed back wall of the train car. The last ones left, the last ones who still have to make the jump.

Sarah nervously twitches and moves closer to me, gently clinging to my arm, leaning her head against my shoulder. I smile and lean my own head against hers. After all this time, I still get excited every time the two of us are alone together.

We keep standing in this loose embrace for a while, while the airflow entering through the hole in the wall mercilessly blows icy breezes into our faces. The dark smoke that still rises from where that Mog threw the small red bomb encases the whole wagon like milky curtains, like waving fabric in the icy wind. Shadows dance around in the swath, faking movements where there are none and making me flinch every time.

The heavy layers of billowing fume seems to weigh the whole room down, it feels like every move takes more effort than usual. Breathing burns like hell; my lungs feel like they're on fire from all the smoke I've taken in.

It stings in the eyes, too. Keeping them open for longer than two or three seconds without blinking is almost impossible. Not that it would be of much use, anyway. The grey foggy clouds around us are so thick, I can hardly even see further than to the next seat row a couple of feet away. The wind doesn't keeps the clouds of smoke from getting out, so that they have been slowly filling up the whole wagon from the bottom to the top, turning it into a ghostly, menacing room full of dark corners.

I keep bumping into seat rows, because I can't see a thing. The only way to be sure Sarah is still around is by feeling her soft skin on mine, by hearing her heart silently beat right next to my chest. And despite the severity and danger of the situation, I wish this moment would never pass.

Having Sarah so close to me – Sarah, the cutest, kindest and prettiest girl I've ever met – I could forget the whole around us. Just the two of us in empty spaces. Only Sarah and me, wrapped in blankets of grey mist. There's nothing I want more than to just lose myself in her eyes for eternity. Lose myself for ever in this moment. A moment of peace. Of calmness. Of perfection.

A deafening noise behind us makes us both jump as the whole train car shakes. Sarah shoots me an alarmed glance. We both know what that means.

The Mogs in the next wagon are starting to get through the barricade of benches I've put up in front of the iron door to keep them from getting in here. It's not going to hold much longer, the crunching creaks coming from the seat rows is getting louder and louder. Whatever the Mogadorian army on is hammering against the door, they're going to break through sooner or later. We got no time to lose.

"I wish we could just stand like that for ever," Sarah silently whispers, as if sensing my urge to leave. I give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Me too," I whisper back and pull away from our embrace. "But if we do, whatever breaks through that door will make that 'for ever' really short." She crooks a grin.

At least I think she does. The smoke is so thick, I can't exactly tell.

I turn towards the hole in the wall and take a deep breath. Through the clouds of smoke, it suddenly appears way smaller than I thought, as if it had shrinked while I hadn't been looking.

I shake my head. The smoke is starting to cloud my own thoughts. I bite my lip, trying to focus on what's important. On getting Sarah out of here alive.

"Ready?" I ask.

"No," she hushes back. I smirk.

Neither am I. I have no idea what will happen when we jump through that hole. We don't even know how far down we will fall. It could be just a few feet, or it could be much more.

I hope Eight and Marina didn't get hurt when they jumped off. And that they have not run into more trouble afterwards. After all, those two other Mogs are still somewhere out there.

One more reason to get off this train immediately.

Another cracking noise from the iron door makes us start. Two more benches in the barricade break under the Mog's hammering They're almost through. We'Re running out of time.

I grab Sarah's hand and pull her a few steps backwards for some more runup.

"Here we go," I whisper. I make sure that my grip around Sarah's hand won't loosen when we jump, then I take one final, deep breath.

"John," Sarah says in a hoarse tone, but I ignore her. Whatever she's about to say, it has to wait until we're outside.

"Alright, on the count of three we run up to the hole and jump," I say.

"John, this…" she begins again, but I shake my head. Not now.

"One," I start counting, and tighten my grip around her hand even more. She groans in pain, but she'll have to bear it, I need to know exactly where she is at all times.

"John, we…"

"Two," I cut her off. Another one of the seat rows behind us shatters under the pressure.

"Three," I say and want to start running, but Sarah doesn't move. She even takes a step backwards, trying to pull me with her.

"Please, don't," she silently whimpers.

"Come on Sarah, we have to get out of here," I shout at her. "Right now! Do you want to get caught by the Mogs?"

An especially strong gust blows a big cloud of smoke into my stinging eyes and I can't see very clearly for a moment, but in these few seconds of vehement blinking, it seems like a sad, regretting look crosses Sarah's face. As if she actually prefers this option over jumping off the train. Or was it just my imagination? Her nose's shadow in the glimmering light, maybe?

"Of course I don't," she says, her voice different than before. Full of fear and shaking from indignation, but there's something different to it. Something almost accusing.

"I don't want to get caught by those monsters again. But I'm scared, John. If we jump, who knows how far down we will fall. You're a Loric. You have superpowers, you can survive about anything, I'm sure you'll be okay. But I'm just an ordinary human, John. We _die_, when we hit our head too hard."

"I'll catch you before you hit the ground," I say, trying to sound as confident as possible. But deep down I know she's right. What if something were to happen to her? What if I do lose my grip around her?

"I'll never let anything hurt you again," I add, and she shoots me a wry glance. Then she looks down to her feet.

"I know… It's just that…"

She falls silent, not finding the right words. Another hammering crack from the door.

She tugs a loose hair strand behind her ear, and as she does, she looks so innocent, so vulnerable, that I just don't have the heart to force Sarah into jumping. Not when she is so scared of it.

And then suddenly something – I don't know if it's the desperate look on her face or her stooped, upset posture – something reminds me of the day we found her in the New Mexican U.S. military base, where the Mogs had kept Sarah for weeks. I sometimes still have nightmares about that moment I stormed into that cell. The sight of her, broken and defeated, rotting away in a dark corner, all alone, holding on to that one hope that we would come and save her, close to just giving up.

Seeing her like that, exhausted and hardly conscious, broke my heart that day. I can't let this happen again. I must get her as far away from the Mogs as possible.

Sarah raises her head, as if sensing I have made my decision. I look deep into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" I finally whisper after a few seconds of silence, pulling her closer to me.

"Yes," she says without hesitating. I smile, grateful for her unconditional confidence in me.

"Then close your eyes," I demand, nodding reassuringly.

She gives me a long, thoughtful look, than she does as I told her and closes her eyes, now fully relying on me to guide her.

Just like she did when she followed me into this whole mess. Which she should never have done.

I sigh and glance back to the iron door one last time. Of course, it's no use, I can't even see half the way through all this smoke. But from the cracking noise of the benches I can tell it's not going to last longer than a few more seconds.

"Ready?" I ask her. She bites her lip, then lets out a long sigh and nods.

"Alright then, Sarah, follow me," I order.

And we both start running.

* * *

Hello everybody,

Yup, it actually took me more than one month to write this little piece of crap. Nothing to add, my ability to keep doing something until the end is bad and I should feel bad.

Sorry if I kept anybody waiting, I'd like to tell you that it won't happen again, but unfortunately that would be lying.

So thanks to all of you who keep reading this story, it really means so much to me (yes, I am aware of the irony).

As always, reviews are welcome and really appreciated.

See you in hopefully less than one more month, have a great time, and thanks for reading =)


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